Huzzah!
by sissyHIYAH
Summary: Ah, the Balamb version of a Renaissance Faire...booze and mayhem, the battle between the Black Knight and the White Knight, Quistis in a corset, Selphie and moonshine. Rated M for alcohol, Seifer's bad Shakespeare, and cheeky sexual banter. Oh behave!
1. Chapter 1

"You have sullied the name of my fair lady and for that, you must face my blade!" The White Knight charged, scarlet plumes streaming from his helmet, his alabaster armor gleaming in the dusky rays of the late afternoon sun. Gaily dressed spectators cheered as the earth shook from the furious pounding hooves of his mighty steed. "Die, you cowardly knave! Hell awaits thee!"

"No, Seifer! I didn't mean it! She just looks…AHHH!!! Shit! Get away from me! Help! He's crazy!"

Zell's belled cap fell from his spiked hair as he ran around the makeshift tilting area set up on the grounds just outside of Balamb Garden. A flat area in the woods surrounding Garden had been converted to a weeklong Faire for the entertainment of the students and Balamb townspeople. Organized by Selphie Tilmitt, the Faire was bringing in some much-needed cash for a library renovation.

In addition to the popular jousts and swordfights, there were jugglers, musicians, storytellers, fantastic creatures on display, and booze everywhere. Wine, beer, mead, ale, wine, liquor, and more wine…it was glorious. It had taken Selphie three days of hard negotiations with Cid before he allowed the inclusion of alcohol on the grounds, but receipts from the sales of Marlboro Mead and wines from the finest wineries in Winhill were enough to convince him that booze at an affair like this was one of the greatest ideas since inhaling oxygen.

Various booths were open for the costumed patrons, their cheap lumber facades decorated with a rainbow of bright fabrics and paint, adorned with flags and ribbons proclaiming their loyalty for one of the festival's parties. Selphie thought it would be more fun for the actors and spectators alike if they could support one house over another. Because of this stroke of genius (or madness, if one considered that it was Selphie) most of the customers and performers were ambling through the festival decked in the colors of their chosen champions.

By far the most fashionable colors were ebony for the house of somber Leonhart and green for the dashing Lord Kinneas. Some wore the regal crimson of the festival king, His Majesty, Cid I, and others flew ribbons of whichever tint best matched their costumes. If one looked hard enough, a rare flash of white could be seen among the trees and packed stands. A few fights erupted here and there when supporters of one house clashed with those of another, but there was nothing like a bit of bloodthirsty entertainment to make people spend a little more money.

Vendors were scattered in the woods around the tilting area, selling goods ranging from jewelry and dresses, wine and beer, replica weapons and armor…to magic potions, wine and beer, wine and mead, wine and food. And wine.

Small stages were arranged so the drunken participants could navigate through the swarming actors, trees and other drunken participants without banging too many pantyhose clad knees. Lilting harps and the sweet tang of plucked lute strings blended with the crashing steel and muttered curses of those brave enough to trade blows in the festival's main events, creating a discordant music that carried for miles.

The bleachers and seats were filled to capacity with hooting and screaming actors and onlookers, some spilling out on the grounds, others leaning over the fence separating the tilt from the crowd. It was all for show, but the tilt was still a dangerous area. Lances and swords were dulled, but the potential existed for serious injuries from the fights themselves or the unpredictable behavior of the horses.

Zell Dincht, the festival jester and aide to the King, was busy keeping curious bystanders from being crushed by horses and armored actors when he glimpsed the costume worn by one of the faire's noble ladies. Elbowing the helmeted knight nearest to him, he made a remark about thanking the man who invented the corset. He said if that woman could be convinced to squeeze into one of those miraculous pieces of clothing everyday, then wearing tights and a belled cap were well worth it.

The knight said nothing. He merely mounted his horse and took his shield and lance from the hands of his page….

His shield with the blood red cross from the very tall and muscular page…

The page that kind of looked like Rajin...

Oh shit.

Zell tried to climb the fence, but the horn that signaled the beginning of battle sounded from the center of the arena. "Fuck me. Help!"

His Highness and The Queen, the lovely Edea, absorbed the scene from their lofty perch in the hastily assembled box seats. As the delicate airy sounds of a flute twittered among the branches, the clatter of armor and rumble of heavy hoof beats could be heard from the main stage.

"Damn it Seifer! I can't run in these tights!" Zell ducked when Seifer's lance passed over his head. The green slits barely visible behind the ivory facemask of Sir Almasy glittered in malicious excitement.

"If you had kept your tongue in your mouth, cur, then you would have no reason to flee my wrath! Now turn and face your death!" Seifer thundered past the trembling Zell, spinning his warhorse at the end of the arena to the applause of the growing crowd. Racing back to Zell's cowering form, he reined the colossal beast and dropped the point of his lance to the quivering mass of mauve and saffron tights. He raised his head and addressed the massive throng. "Should I show mercy to this lump, this wastrel, this dog? He has slighted my lady and I must defend her honor. What say you?"

Seifer eagerly listened to the resounding yells from many throats. "Louder! What say you?"

"Yes! Have mercy!" A group of girls from the library ran to the fence, pleading with the victorious knight. "Spare him! Please, kind sir. Our mistress would be most displeased if you were to lop off his head."

"No!" The cafeteria workers dropped their baskets of turkey legs and took up the glad shout. "The dog at your mercy has stolen our hot dogs for years! Avenge us, good sir!"

"Split him from nave to chops! Make him bleeeeed!" A slightly mad pixie in a sunshine yellow skirt and a horned headdress and multicolored wings bounced to her feet and cheered the conquering hero. Flower petals fell from her hair when she tore the headdress off and began twirling it overhead. "Defend your lady! Her damned honor is at stake! Huzzah!"

"Selphie! Don't encourage him! He's already taking this too seriously as it is."

"But Quisty, the jester insulted his lady! Didn't you hear what Lord Seifer said? And for that, he must face his blade! Off with his head! The dog must die! Mwahahaha!" The bleachers vibrated with the force of the stomping feet and throaty screams of many hundreds of jousting fans. Selphie's shrill voice could be heard above it all. "Hey White Knight! Why don't you ask the lady? It's her honor after all! Ask her!"

Quistis groaned when the cheers reached the decibel level of the Ragnarok at takeoff. Thrilled spectators rallied behind Selphie, their random chants soon becoming a steady mantra. "_Ask. Her_. _Ask. Her."_

Seifer hoisted his lance in salute and galloped to the decorated box seats of the Balamb nobility.

Fingers in her ears, Quistis roared at Selphie to sit down and shut up, but the horned imp ignored her. "Selphie! Sit down before…oh hell."

Much to Selphie's ear-splitting delight, Seifer dismounted in front of them, bowing low to the costumed pair. He removed his helmet with a flourish, blonde hair damp from sweat and green eyes looking up through dark lashes. Speaking loudly for the benefit of the crowd and the royal party, Seifer addressed Quistis. "Milady, the motley knave now cringing in fear on yon battlefield has insulted your honor. With your leave, I shall dispatch this villain forthwith, and return his soul to the depths of the abyss from whence he came."

Seifer gave Quistis a devilish grin, winking when she stood from her seat and scowled down at him. Zell was right. The Instructor had one hell of a rack. If only she would bend down a little farther…

"I don't know why you're over here. The Princess is sitting two boxes over."

"Why, dear Lady, you wound me! My heart and sword belong only to you. Her dark beauty is nothing when one has seen the azure splendor of your own exquisite eyes. I fear that there is no woman to command the thrust of my blade unless that woman be you, my most divine image of perfection." Lowering his voice, Seifer spoke only to Quistis. "And speaking of perfection, you look absolutely ravishing in that costume, Instructor. Care to skip out of here and test my swordsmanship?"

Quistis rolled her eyes. "Thrust of your blade? Swordsmanship? Seifer, are you kidding me? Talk about blunted weapons…"

"Ouch, Instructor. Pity that you haven't put your name on the lists. Your tongue is much sharper than any weapon on the field." Seifer threw down his lance and raised both arms to the expectant crowd, pacing a few steps in front of Selphie and Quistis. "The Lady is cruel. I ask her for a token of her esteem and she turns away. My heart is broken."

Boos and hisses greeted Seifer's words when he held his hand to his heart and bowed his head. Selphie sharply elbowed Quistis. Smiling and waving, she said through clenched teeth, "He's gonna throw Zell in horse shit or something awful if you don't play nice, Lady Quisty. Act your part so the show can go on."

Shoving Quistis to the edge of the balcony, Selphie whistled sharply at Seifer. "Yo! Knighty-poo! The Lady here has changed her mind. She said she'd give you a token if you spared the poor dumbass fool."

Vicious catcalls and jeers transformed to cries of elation when Seifer turned his megawatt smile to the embarrassed blonde. "Why, Milady! Is this true? Have you deemed me worthy of your notice? 'Til I hear it from your sweet lips, I'll not believe the words spouted by the bifurcated tongue of the foul winged changeling by your side. Tell me, oh lovely Lady, that I may spare the idiot today and proudly wait to rejoin battle on the morrow."

"Quisty, throw something at him."

"I didn't bring anything heavy enough to kill him, Selphie."

"You know what I mean. A ribbon or bow or anything like that. Don't you watch movies?"

"Well, yes. But I didn't plan on participating in this festival at all. I'm woefully unprepared."

Their argument was interrupted by the grinning White Knight. Once again, he won the crowd. "Oh, dear Lady. A physical token would be far too cheap and paltry. If you would but favor me with a kind gesture, I feel that I could face the gathered forces of nefarious Galbadia or the ruthless tribes of the far Trabian mountains with a glad heart. Simply smile or wave, my Lady. Any small gesture twill serve."

Quistis threw her golden hair off her shoulders and leaned closer. Seifer waved his arms, hushing the shouting audience. Bending her head so that her hand was shielded on both sides by a blonde curtain, she extended her middle finger and winked. "There's your token of my affection, Knight."

Jade eyes danced. "Beautiful gesture, Instructor. I'd expect no less. And now, before we have a riot, I have a chickenwuss to pardon." Mounting his steed, Seifer placed his helmet back on his head. Eye level with Quistis, he winked back. "I do love that costume, Instructor. How about a bet?"

"A bet? What kind of bet?"

"I win the tournament and you don't return that costume to the rental place. You keep it and wear it for me. Just for me."

"You win the tournament? That's rich. Squall has beaten you in every event so far. And I know you can't defeat Irvine at the archery contest. I'll take that bet. But when you lose, I'll still keep the costume."

"Mmm. Really? Is my idea just too tempting for you to risk losing? Want to make sure that you keep it around just in case?"

"Don't be silly. When you lose, I want _you_ to wear this thing. Let's see how much you like it when you're stuffed into a corset."

"You _are_ a kinky little minx, aren't you? But until then, my magnificent one, I must leave you and that gorgeous rack of yours behind. If you can't wait until the end of the week, you'll be able to find me in one of the wine tents. I'll keep a seat open just for you, dearest Instructor. Now, my audience awaits …"

Seifer spurred his horse back to the center of the arena. Poking Zell in the ribs with his lance, he addressed the crowd for the final time that day. "The Lady has shown mercy on the piddling whelp that shivers before you. And since my Lady demands it, he is free to crawl back into whatever stinking pit he calls home. Away from here, yellow cur! And keep your evil words for the tarts you try to nightly seduce. Milady shall be exposed to only the skills of those with sweet tongues and gentle…words. Now get thee hence, fool!"

With a final poke to Zell's ribs and a kick to the horse's flank, Seifer galloped out of the arena, the flaming ruby cross on his shield reflecting the fiery light of the setting sun. Quistis watched him go, shaking her head. Cocky bastard.

"So, Lady Q? You did watch the joust yesterday, didn't you?" Selphie gathered her headdress and adjusted her glittery wings. It was a hard job, fairying, but somebody had to do it. After all the excitement, she figured she would have to add an extra layer of varnish to her wings. Every time she jumped to cheer, more shimmery bits fell off her costume. If dressing as a demonic wood fairy was this much work, then she would be a devilish wood sprite next year. A sprite was more dignified anyway. No glitter at all. Oh yeah. She was talking to Quisty. Oops. "So, like I was saying…did you actually watch the events yesterday, Quisty?"

"Well, no. I was grading papers and I missed it. This is my first day here."

"Yeah, well, you know how you said that Squall had beaten Seifer at every event so far?"

"Yes. Oh no. What's with that look?"

"See, the thing is…Seifer would have won, but his horse yesterday threw a shoe in the last tilt. I think the blacksmith was a little tipsy from hitting that flask of his too much. He let me try some of that shit. Pure moonshine from the stills in the forests of Timber. Strong as hell. Good stuff, though. One swig and you're like, BOOYAKA!"

Quistis slapped Selphie on the arm. If the story was the scratched vinyl record, then Selphie was the needle that had to be placed back in the correct groove. Without interference, Selphie would jabber all night.

Selphie blinked a few times and continued, "Oh yeah. Anyway, so here comes Squall in all his Black Knighty glory, charging up the lane, and poor Seifer gets knocked off his gimpy horse. So…"

"So Seifer isn't just full of himself. He's actually good at this stuff. Oh fuck me."

"Hee hee! Don't let Seifer hear you say that! The way he was looking at you, he'll take you up on it! Now come on, let's hit the mead hall! We're supposed to meet Xu and Rinoa for drinks before the night is over. Let's go! Unless, that is, you want to hang around the wine tents. I'm sure Seifer would _love_ to see you…" Selphie dragged Quistis through the dwindling masses, darting between people with an almost supernatural grace.

_Dang. I just wanted to see why everyone was so excited. Now I might lose a bet. To Seifer bloody Almasy. Shoot me now. He'll never let me live this down._

"Hurry up Quisty! Thar be fine drinkin' up ahead! If we don't get there quick, we'll have to drink Toothless Pete's 'shine."

"Toothless Pete?"

"Yeah, the blacksmith! God, Quisty. To be so smart, you sure are ditzy sometimes!"

"But, the blacksmith has all of his teeth, doesn't he?"

"Well yes, that's the point!"

"What? How the hell is that the point?"

"Jeez, Quisty. Stop with all the questions. Let's just get to drinkin'."

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Note: I don't know if Renaissance festivals are just an American thing or not, but in case you don't know about them, a Renfaire is basically a flea market with music, shows and costumes. I think they were originally meant to inform people about certain historical periods, mostly the years spanning the European Renaissance and parts of medieval periods. Sure, you'll find the occasional educational bit, but by and large, Renfaires are historically inaccurate excuses for perfectly reasonable adults to dress like Medieval hookers (excuse me, _harlots_) and tacky court jesters, drink, eat turkey legs, drink, dance, drink, quaff a pint or two, watch a joust, drink some more, etc. So…that's a Renfaire. I love 'em. And here's my Final Fantasy VIII version. And for the sake of the story, everyone is back in or around Balamb Garden. Just go with it.

And the 'thy', 'thine', 'thou' stuff...I have no idea when to use which one. I could look it up, I suppose, but I'm lazy.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, ya know, Boss…"

"Thou mayest address me as_ Sir_, my good page. Until the heathen Black Knight and his foul retinue have fallen beneath my shining steel, then I remain a most humble knight. When the Leonhart lays his sable shield at the dancing soles of Milady's nimble feet, groveling and begging for her pity, then victory shall be mine. On that glorious day, thou mayest address me as…let's see, _Highness_ or _Majesty_."

Seifer sat on the cot and braced himself. "Now pull like a son-of-a-bitch. These fuckin' boots are hard as hell to take off. We need to hurry and change or we'll never get a good seat at the wine tent. I want to beat that crazy fortune teller bitch to the table by the fire."

"Yeah, but you were our Boss before you were a Sir and I just can't get used to the idea, ya know. And are you still talking about the instructor? 'Cause she doesn't strike me as the dancing type. Confusing, ya know." Rajin tugged on Seifer's mud-encrusted boot while Seifer tore off his filthy tunic.

Jousting was a dirty sport. The tent they shared was littered with clay spattered pieces of armor and clothing, empty wine bottles and various faux-historical weapons, making it difficult to gain decent leverage on the hard-packed earth. The glossy glass skeletons of _Mimett Merlot_ skittered and clinked when Rajin bumped against them. "Man, we need to clean up in here. Ya sure won't win the tournament with your feet sliced up, ya know."

Seifer smirked. With his blonde hair and wicked feline eyes, the White Knight made the simple act of smiling seem a hell of a lot more dangerous. Had Quistis been in the tent, even she might have reconsidered his earlier proposition. "Rajin, I can win this thing with my hands tied behind my back. And yeah, she doesn't strike me as the dancing type either…but it sounded good, didn't it?"

"POMPOUS."

"Fu! How could you say such a thing? And I thought you were waiting outside while we changed. If you're not careful, you'll get an eyeful of my godlike masculinity. I'd hate to be responsible for the loss of your other eye. Beauty like this…" Standing and flexing his muscles, he gestured to his half-naked form. "… has been known to make mere mortals lose their sight with little more than a glance." He winked when she rolled her eye.

Fujin threw a towel in Seifer's face, laughing when both Seifer and Rajin reached to catch it, bumping heads together with a loud thunk. "UNIMPRESSED." Seifer chuckled in spite of the lump on his head. Leave it to Fujin to keep his roaring ego from leaping out of it's cage.

"Hey Fu, he's buying our drinks tonight, so I'll call him King or Prince or the artist formerly known as Seifer or Seifer the Almighty if he fucking wants me to. Plus, he's our Boss, ya know. We gotta support him." Rajin beamed when Seifer gave him a hearty clap on the shoulder.

Rajin pushed armor and bottles to the wall next to his cot, scraping out enough room to stretch his long legs. He decided to use the bottles for archery practice in the morning. Shattering such pretty green glass would make interesting wake-up calls for the rest of the sleeping festival. "But, ya didn't seem really excited about it earlier this week Boss, er, Sir. Why's it so important now? Did Dincht make you that damn mad, running like that?"

Fujin snorted at Rajin's ignorance. She flicked silver hair to one side and plopped next to the giant man, punching him in the shoulder. Pointing at Seifer and then bringing her arms in front of her chest, she mimed the gravity-defying movement of the corset-clad Quistis. "BIG KNOCKERS."

Glass rattled from Seifer's booming laughter. "Whatever would make you think that she has anything to do with this, Fujin? Is my thirst for glory and hunger for admiration not enough?"

Fujin raised an eyebrow over this feigned innocence. Standing with Rajin at the tilt, she noticed how Seifer's posture changed when Zell made that boorish remark about the instructor. Seifer, for all of his teasing and insults, always did have a twisted concept of chivalry. It was perfectly fine for him to torment Quistis, but for anyone else, especially someone like Zell, to make a coarse comment about her…well, that just wouldn't do. If it wasn't Seifer pulling her hair or throwing something at her, then it was just plain _rude._

If Fujin was a different sort of girl, she might have said he was charming. But Fujin was not that sort of girl. Sweeping her foot behind Seifer's ankles, she brought him down to her single-eye level, grinning when he fell hard on his ass. "FOOL. FOR. BLONDES."

Rajin's deep chuckles, when combined with the loud laughter of Fujin and Seifer threatened to break every empty bottle in their tent. "Hey, that's a good one, Fu! But let's get changed and go, ya' know."

Crawling out of their festival home, they began their journey to the center of the faire, greeting patrons with bright smiles and friendly waves. When Seifer was in a good mood, the Posse was in a good mood. And Seifer was most definitely in a good mood. Even the angry glares and taunts from the supporters decked in black and green couldn't dampen his spirits. He would never let it be known by anyone other than his closest friends, but the festival was the best idea Messenger Girl ever had. Seifer loved it. The cheers and whistles of his fans, the disappointed sighs of the besotted women he ignored, the satisfying crack of Puberty Boy's ribs when Seifer found weak points in his armor…ah, it was wonderful.

And then, there was _that _costume.

When he saw her in the blazing scarlet velvet, with the low-cut lace at her bosom that hugged her figure _just _so, he nearly plummeted from the broad back of his horse. She _never_ looked like that in class. And then her hair…Seifer wanted to shake the hand of the demon that possessed her long enough to convince her to wear it down instead of in that fucking clip. When she bent over to flip him off, the sun burning through those golden strands lit her eyes with an absolutely unholy brilliance. He felt like a goddess had just descended from the skies and told him to fuck off. Quistis was always a beautiful girl, but her chilly good looks combined with _that _costume…Huzzah, indeed.

If she hadn't been such a bitch, he would have thrown her across the back of his horse and carried her into the sunset. Or at least to his tent. Or a secluded woody glen. Anywhere really. But no. The one time he wanted to defend his dear instructor, the one moment when he felt passion's sweet fire sear his heart, she had to extinguish that flame with her typical icy bitchiness. Now he didn't know if he wanted to fuck her or punch her lights out. Damn, she could be confusing as hell.

Trading jokes and lewd songs, they wandered through the crowd, stopping at intervals when giggling girls sighed at the handsome, if somewhat distracted, knight and his loyal entourage. Rajin, lost in conversation with a bouncy redhead that answered his 'ya knows' with eager cries of 'totally', had to run to catch up when Seifer and Fujin continued without him.

The trio cackled at Fujin's artful mimicry, especially when she perfectly imitated Rajin's dim-witted love interest, the high stepping flight of Zell and the rather deep-throated way he wolfed down hot dogs. Monosyllabic speech patterns didn't matter when one could use their face and body with such skill and impersonate with such precision. Their merry laughter followed them through the faire as they wound their way to the food and beverage tents, eager to crush a cup of wine.

---------------------------------------------

"Oh you should have seen him, Rin. He was all charming and shiny and he had _that_ smile on his face. You know…the one where his eyes get all sparkly and he looks like he knows what you look like without your clothes. And the things he said! Oh mercy! I'm telling ya, if I wasn't with Irvy and he didn't have it so bad for Quisty, I would have jumped off the balcony and climbed him like a _tree_. Any other woman would have passed out cold, but not our girl. Not Quisty. She was all mean and snooty. Poor, poor Seifer."

"Selphie, if you say 'Poor Seifer' one more time, I'm going to pluck your little fairy wings and make you eat them. He was nothing but the iron-armored personification of arrogance." Quistis pulled harder on what passed for her dress's neckline, hoping to cover a portion of what was exposed. Selphie Tilmitt would never again be allowed to pick out the costumes. Never again. Why couldn't she have picked out something elegant and tasteful, like she did for Rinoa? The deep blue fabric and delicate embroidery on Rinoa's dress was perfectly suited for her dark hair and eyes. And she had a neckline…that was actually located close to her throat, not hanging off her boobs.

_Ya gotta let yourself go every once in a while, Quisty. Gotta get outta that classroom, let it all hang out. Trust me, you look great. You look like umm, a, a perfectly respectable fifteenth-century business woman! What? No, you don't look like a two gil strumpet. You'd score at least ten. Hoo Hoo! Now get outta here. I'll meet you at the joust. _

Quistis gave up when she noticed that Trepies at tables near and far were watching every bouncing adjustment with something beyond mere lustful idolatry. Business woman indeed. She hated to imagine the type of business that considered half a bodice and some whalebone scaffolding the fifteenth-century equivalent of a pantsuit. She swore to kill Selphie after the festival. "And Seifer certainly doesn't need to hear you complimenting him like that. He's cocky enough as it is."

Selphie wiggled her eyebrows in a very _nudge, nudge, wink, wink_ sort of manner. "Oh come on, Quisty! I saw you blush when he called you 'milady'. You'd be a bigger fool than Zell to not wrap your legs…"

"Hey! I heard that!" Zell, bells jingling, raised his head from his tankard and sprayed droplets of mead over the table. "And if it wasn't for that big-ass horse, I would've kicked his ass!"

"Silence fool! Or I'll run to the wine tent and fetch the White Knight to carve thine tongue from the foul pit of your mouth. Or is it thine mouth? Anyway, aren't you supposed to say 'prithee' before you speak? Don't go getting out of character with all of these people around."

Zell's bells drooped. "But, you-you're not saying prithee or thou or anything like that, Selphie."

"Yes, but I'm a fucking demonic wood fairy that will tear your balls off and attach 'em to your cap if you keep interrupting, Mr. Motley Fool. Demonic wood fairies don't use the same words as fools. You get to say _marry, i'faith, n'uncle, _and _prithee._ And you caper. Capering is damn near a requisite skill for fools, you know. Now, drink your mead so you can caper and frolic properly and let me finish talking to Quisty and Rin."

Rolling her eyes, Selphie turned back to the elegantly garbed ladies sitting side by side. Well…as close to side by side as their wide skirts would allow. And okay, only one was elegantly garbed. But they _were_ ladies, damn it. Even if Quistis looked more like a lady of the night than the other kind. "Like I was saying, Toothless Pete whipped out his flask and handed it to me, but he didn't tell me how strong it was. I took a big ol' swig and then I started hallucinating about a naked gnome with a HUGE…"

Rinoa tapped Selphie on the arm. "No, Selphie. You were trying to tell me about Seifer and Quistis."

"Oh! Right! Sorry Princess! Anyway, Seifer looked hot as hell in that armor, and Quisty didn't even give him the time of day. Or knight! Ahahahahahaaa!!!" Selphie rolled off the bench, adding a couple of bent wires to the damaged set of wings on her back. Rinoa giggled when Selphie's curly sequined shoes flew above her head. Yep, the demonic wood fairy couldn't hold her booze. Loud snores sounded from the floor, a series of deep nasal grunts that should have originated from a troll or a hobgoblin, not a cute little fairy.

"Don't listen to her, Rinoa. She's obviously still feeling the intoxicating effects of the illicit liquor she obtained from the metallurgist." Quistis queasily eyed the mead in front of her. She would much rather have a nice merlot, but she couldn't head to the wine tents and risk running into Seifer. "And where is her boyfriend during all of this? And yours? I've not seen either of them all day."

"Oh, they've been practicing most of the day. Irvine is really getting into these competitions and you know Squall…if anybody is better than him at anything drives him crazy. So, they've been practicing for hours and hours." She leaned closer to Quistis. "You know, Selphie's right. I saw Seifer yesterday when he almost beat Squall, and he really does look good in that armor. You can admit it, I won't tell anyone."

"Oh God, not you too. Just because he drops that awful trench coat and starts quoting the Bard, I'm supposed to swoon? What is with everyone tonight?"

"Well, it wouldn't hurt you to just play along and have a little fun, would it? And there are worse things than Seifer crawling around this festival. Have you seen the Snake Charmer yet?"

Quistis sighed. "Snake charming is nothing more than the serpent detecting vibrations from the con artist's flute, Rinoa. You see, members of the family Elapidae are extraordinarily sensitive to fluctuations in…"

Rinoa shuddered. "No, dear. This was definitely NOT a regular snake he had in his basket. And I wouldn't bring anything that vibrates close to this pervert. But at least he's not as bad as Two Ton Tawanda and the Trapeze Twins. They did tricks that made Irvine blush. Why, they used a feather and a bottle of…"

"Really, Rinoa, I get the picture."

"So, see what I mean when I say that Seifer isn't all _that _bad? He's actually quite the gentleman."

"To you, maybe. The bastard can't stand me and believe me, the feeling is mutual. I've had nothing but harassment and ridicule from him for years."

"Well, you're not exactly nice to him, are you? It was you who always favored Squall in class, wasn't it? And it was you again that fussed at him for cutting Squall's face, wasn't it? He ended up with a pretty nasty scar from that fight as well, Quistis. Did you scream at Squall for hurting Seifer?" Rinoa smirked at Quistis' discomfort. "And the poor lad just wants to joust for his lady, even though she is cruel to him. Tsk. Tsk."

"Oh, poor lad, my ass. He gives as good as he gets, _Princess_." Xu fell to the bench next to Quistis, mead in one hand and wine in the other. "Here, Q. I know you can't stand this shit, so I brought you some wine. And what happened to the elf? Isn't she supposed to be flitting from tree to tree, spreading magic pixie dust and bullshit?"

"Jeez, Xu. How long was the line?" Quistis took the wine and drank deeply, holding her breath so she could swallow faster. Forget being ladylike. She wanted to get drunk. Stupid Rinoa and her damned touchy-feely emotional self, making Quistis feel all guilty over Seifer, of all people.

"Oh, the mead line was short, but I walked over to the wine tent to get your merlot. And your favorite chess piece was having a high old time over there, laughing and boasting, as usual." Xu shook her head, ashamed of herself. "He _did _look good in that doublet, though. I'll give him that much. But if any of you breathes a word of this, I'll strangle both of you."

"See, Quisty? Even Xu says so, and she hates him more than any person alive."

"Hey! I hate him too! Even more than Xu! Oops!" Zell's cap rang as his head turned from side to side, searching for the evil fairy. "I mean… Prithee, methinks yon White Knight is but a blackguard and scoundrel, his ivory armor doth little to cloak a heart as black as pitch. The lady doth well to scorn his advances, for none but a fool could dote on such a churlish beast. Wait, no. That's not right. I mean, i'faith, the rogue means to surmount milady's defenses with his mighty blade and invayde her pristine palace. No, wait... I'm so confused. Could somebody translate for me?"

"Actually, that's very good Zell. That's exactly what the conceited ape said to me, only he wasn't nearly as polite as you."

Zell's bells jingled louder at Quistis' praise. "Yeah, take that, Selphie! Selphie? Where are you? I mean, whither flutters thou, o' wing'd spirit o' the forest? Hast thou found a sweet honey'd flower hanging heavy with twilight's dew? O' Fey Nymph? Hello?" Hearing a deep snore, Zell looked down to the crumpled wings of the drunken Selphie. "Holy shit. She's drunk as hell."

"Methinks our fearless fairy leader now finds her fucking head hangs heavy with too much mead. Methinks it unfortunate for her…" Xu reached in her bag and found a black permanent marker. Wiggling the marker and grinning broadly, she leaned o'er Quistis to study the intoxicated pixie. "…for I have a magic wand with her name on it. Now, should I draw a big ol' cock on her cheek or her forehead?"

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"So, Squall. It's getting kind of dark. You reckon we might oughtta turn in and see what the ladies are doing?" Irvine leaned on his bow, watching Squall miss another shot in the darkness under the trees. "These torches only make so much light, you know. And I'm hungry. Let's get some grub."

"Just a few more shots." Squall squinted, trying to focus on the target. The autumn night was just too damned early. Hazy fog filtering through the groves and clearings dimmed the remaining light even further, cutting his practice to a measly seven hours. "I only have a few more arrows, then we'll call it a day."

"Alright, whatever you say." Irvine leaned on a mossy stump and rolled a cigarette, inhaling the sweet smoke of the gryshal greens and blowing it out in leisurely rings. He watched the burgundy leaves fall, drifting and twisting on the slight breeze that brought the smells of campfires and hot food to his nostrils. He was hungry now, but after the smoke break, he knew that he would be absolutely ravenous. "Squall, really. I think we need to head back and find some grub. I could really go for a couple of those turkey legs and some muscadine wine. Maybe some chips and salsa too. And marshmallows. And some graham crackers and little chocolate bars. We'll make some smores, man! And some bread. And an apple. And some peanut butter."

Squall sniffed. "Irvine! Are you smoking that shit again?"

"What? It's not like I'm doing it in front of Rinoa! I know she doesn't approve, so I made sure she won't find out. Don't worry so much. Damn man, you could probably stand to take a hit yourself. You _really_ need to relax, sometimes."

Squall shook his head. It was no wonder the cowboy was always so laid back. Hell, he probably needed it, just to tolerate Selphie's hyperactivity. "Fine, Kinneas. But you make damn sure that Rinoa doesn't find your stash. She'd freak out."

"Eh, don't worry about your lil' darlin'. She'll never know. That's part of the reason I stayed out here with you today. I just didn't realize that you wanted to practice so damned much."

Squall stopped in mid-nock, dropping the bow to his side. His arms and shoulders _hurt_. Maybe seven hours of archery was enough. He hoped that his over-worked muscles would recover in time for the events scheduled for tomorrow. He wasn't going to let Almasy get in another performance like he did yesterday. "I just really want to win that tournament. It would make Rinoa so happy, even if it is just one of Selphie's crazy schemes."

"Easy now. That's my girl you're talking about there, Sir Black Knight." Irvine grinned, eyes hidden by his deep green hat. "And her wild schemes just about got you beaten yesterday, didn't they? If it hadn't been for that drunk old coot and that lucky horseshoe, you might have got your ass whooped. I didn't realize that Almasy would take playing knight so seriously."

Squall almost chuckled. Seifer Almasy not be serious when it came to playing knights and castles? Yeah, right.

"Are you kidding me, Irvine? This has always been his favorite game."

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Note: If anybody has ever read any Terry Pratchett, then they'll see that Zell's role is directly inspired by the Fool in _Wyrd Sisters_. And way, way back in my Shakespeare reading days, I always loved that line in _Romeo and Juliet--_something like, "If you be not of the house of Montague, come and crush a cup of wine." Those may not be the exact words, but I'm pretty sure that at least the 'crush a cup of wine' part is correct. Good stuff. And Irvine and the guys from _Half-Baked _would get on perfectly. I always thought that he was a little _too _laid-back in the game. More mischief soon. Had to get the whole character introduction section finished.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey ya know, Shir. We might oughtta (hic!) head back to the tent…gotta get up early to practish for the joushting. Gotta (hic!) kick shome ash and defend the lady'sh honor! Huzhzhaaaa…" Fujin chuckled as she slowly sipped her wine. For all his size, Rajin could hold his booze about as well as a baby moomba. Only finished with two small glasses of sugared red wine and the colossus was already sliding off the bench. Seifer and half the gathered performers laughed loudly, clinging mugs and glasses together when she commented on his less-than-impressive drinking capacity. "PUSSY."

Fujin was thankful that they had gotten to the party late, missing their chance to snag the coveted fireside table from the beaded and bangled mystic, currently sipping her tea and enjoying the warmth of the blazing fire. Considering that Rajin couldn't hold more than a few ounces of wine, he would have probably fallen into that same fire instead of simply rolling onto the floor. And speaking of that old woman, her peculiar indigo eyes had not left Seifer's figure all night. Weird sister, indeed.

"Come on, Seifer! Another tale, another drink!"

"Yes! Sing your songs again!"

"Aye! Let's have another cheer for our brave White Knight, who but two days hence shall defeat the cowardly Black Knight and break the bow of the Emerald Ranger! Huzzah!" White clad supporters raised their cups, saluting their champion. They were few in number, but their loyalty and tenacity were already legend in the brief history of the faire. Men and women in green and black watched the group of tables with angry bruised faces and steely black-eyed glances. Since the victory of the Black Knight the day before, fights and brawls between warring fan factions had increased. It seemed that every joust won by Leonhart and every arrow shot by the keen hand of Kinneas increased the insults and boastful threats of the Almasy faithful. The arrogance of their leader seemed to be contagious, invading the faire with an outbreak of smirks and cocky swagger that brought the other groups to fevered fury. And failure seemed to aggravate the condition.

"Hey, shut up!"

"Yeah, we're sick of you fucking bastards! Your boy can't even beat our hero! Your damned White Knight sure got his ass stomped, didn't he?"

"Hey Almasy! How'd it feel to land flat on your ass when Leonhart knocked you off your horse? Did it hurt? Cause from where I was sitting, it looked like it would sting like a motherfucker!" Fujin watched Seifer carefully. He seemed amused by the insults and jabs that Leonhart's fans were lobbing his way, sipping his wine and grinning that special Seifer grin that infuriated so many. At least until a very, very unwise person mentioned a certain lady. A thin brunette man a few tables over elbowed his partner, encouraged by the cheers behind him. "And I saw how you had to get fucking permission just to beat the Fool today! Always gotta have some bitch rulin' your life for ya, huh Lapdog? First the Sorceress, now that Instructor. Although, I could give her a lesson in jousting, that's for damn sure. She wouldn't look so smug after a tilt or two with my lance!" Fujin saw Seifer finish his wine and lock eyes with the foolish man. She saw the old woman watching the exchange as well, twirling a spoon in another cup of tea. Seifer set his glass down, ready to stand and 'speak' with the fellow across the tent, but his supporters beat him to it.

"Hey fuck you buddy! You'll see some pain in a couple of days when he snaps Leonhart like a twig!" A stein flew over Seifer's head, landing with a sick, sticky thump in the face of the sneering Leonhart fan. Blood mixed with wine, the sweetened salty liquid flowing down the unfortunate man's chin, making his black cotton shirt appear even blacker. His shocked neighbor gaped at the oddly graceful way he folded to the floor, bloody chin tucked into chest and arms landing behind his head. Once his friend's body hit the floor, he tossed his own mug, shattering the cheekbone of an unwary Almasy follower. Her screams and curses of pain were drowned by the sudden roar of two dozen wine-crazed participants simultaneously diving at each other, some aiming for green, some for black, and nearly all for white. Fujin sighed when one stupid fuck in a green tunic tried to punch her in her good eye. Dodging the clumsy blow, she drove her fist into his gut, forcing him to fall forward on her table, spilling her wine. Grabbing his hair and slamming his face into the hard oak, she smiled when she felt his body twitch and go limp. She felt his pockets for his money pouch, pulling out the amount of gil that would pay for her wasted chardonnay. Quickly dropping to her knees, she shoved Rajin under the table, grunting with effort. Once the festival was over, she was going to put him on a diet. Keeping him safe from harm was killing her back.

Rising to her feet, she looked for Seifer. He was standing at the head of the table, sipping his wine between dodging punches and laughing at the chaos. He ducked another thrown fist, gripping the thick wrist of his opponent with one hand and his elbow with the other. Using the momentum of the ill-timed blow, Seifer pushed hard, spinning him into a group of battling drunks. They fell in a tangle of limbs, feet and fists connecting with broken faces and bruised bodies. Jumping on top of the table, he turned to her with a bright smile and an extended hand. "What cheer, Madame? Wouldst thou join me atop my perch? To view the battle from such…fuck! Let go of me, you cock-eyed bastard!" Another tried to be the one to topple the mighty knight, grabbing his hand and pulling him back into the fray. Fujin lost sight of Seifer in the struggle, only catching fleeting glimpses of blonde hair and flashing eyes as he was jostled between the press of sweating combatants.

Trying to throw off her own assailants, she noticed that the old fortune teller was still sitting by the fire, calmly watching Seifer with an amused expression on her face. The wild melee churned closer and closer to the firepit, making the mysterious woman take her tea and slowly retreat to the exit. Fujin smelled the unmistakable acrid odor of burning hair before she heard the sizzle of flesh and shrill cries of a singed warrior, howling his outrage at finding his head alight.

When security finally reached the brawl, knocking heads and pushing their way through the confusion, Seifer untangled himself and stumbled over to Fujin. Still laughing, he pushed her back to the table. "Come Madame, let's away. The sport is at it's best!" They managed to drag the semi-conscious Rajin to the exit, leaving the tent in the incense-scented wake of the elderly sage. "Damn it. I appreciate the thought, but I wanted to flatten that cocksucker's face myself. Whoever threw that fucking mug beat me to it." The cool autumn air seemed to revive their muscular comrade, who was able to take a few faltering steps in the direction of their tent.

"Hey Boss, I don't feel so hot, ya know." Fujin jumped back as Rajin lurched forward, vomit streaming from his throat and steam rising from the mixture of fallen leaves and red wine. "GROSS." Rajin wiped his mouth and leaned on his knees, grateful that he missed Fujin's boots. She would have kicked his ass for sure. "Ugh. I think I'm gonna head back, ya know. Too much partying for me, ya know." Staggering and stumbling, he tried to weave back home, eager to lie down and sleep off the remaining buzz.

Fujin chuckled again, waving goodnight to Seifer. Poor Rajin. "LIGHTWEIGHT." Returning the wave, he watched her vanish in the torch lit darkness, following Rajin to their tent. A part of him was glad that Rajin was sick. It would give them a chance to sleep later in the morning. The big man had a terrible habit of waking before the sun, bellowing his morning greetings and angering Fujin, who enjoyed sleeping until noon.

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Seifer paced for a bit, knowing that he should turn in as well, but also aware that he wouldn't be able to sleep if he did follow them. He considered walking to the mead tent and finding Quistis to bug her for a while, but he didn't want to deal with her fucking irritating circle of friends. If the fairy tried talking to him again, he would beat her with her rainbow wings. "Well fuck. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?" Muttering to himself, he wandered around the fair, ignoring the chants of fans and foes. He stopped to watch a lute player dance and twirl, plucking his strings and singing loudly while his partner passed a hat, collecting tips. Seifer tossed a couple gil into the hat, making the skinny youth bob his head in appreciation. His high voice lifted in a series of ancient tunes, all sad and all so familiar. Seifer listened for a while, lost in the pure voice of the talented singer, but left when the crowd's noise overpowered the soft notes of the old song.

Drifting away from the musician, Seifer noticed a faint glow in the trees just off of the main path that meandered through the heart of the faire. Intrigued, he stepped off the path and walked into the shadowed shelter of the tall trees. The blaring clatter from the festival, though just a few feet away, seemed muffled by the forest, blasphemous noise drowned by the silent sway of wise oak and willow. Seifer liked it. Still curious, he walked over gnarled roots and twisted branches, searching for the source of the hypnotic light. Leaves and moss cushioned his heavy footfalls. It seemed that the forest was determined to banish all sound, save for the soft sighing of the trees and the distant trickle of some small stream. The harsh sounds made by man had no place in this sylvan kingdom of moss and oak.

"I have some more tea, if you'd like a cup."

Startled, Seifer spun around to find the old fortuneteller sitting on a stump, smiling at him; her wrinkled face and purple eyes alight with the mischievous glow of foxfire. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

"Oh, I've been around. Nice job in there earlier, by the way. You laid a hurtin' on those dicks and didn't even make me spill my tea. I like a man that knows the value of a good cup o' tea." She hopped off her stump, motioning Seifer to follow her, beads and shells interweaved in her gray hair tinkling and clinking. "Come on, lad. It's this way." Moving with stunning swiftness, the hag moved through the fog and smoke, seemingly untouched by the twigs and cobwebs that assaulted Seifer's face. "Wait one damn minute. Who the fuck are you and why the hell should I follow you?" She turned and grinned, gums shining between the gaps in her remaining teeth. "No need to follow me, Sonny Jim. We're here." And indeed they were. The fog lifted long enough to show Seifer an old wagon, the type that made him think of gypsy caravans and traveling snake oil salesmen.

Hitching up her tattered skirts, the old woman climbed the steps without waiting for the knight. "Fuck." Seifer, senses screaming, shook his head and climbed in after her. His weight made the old wagon lurch violently, teacups and mysterious bottles falling from shelves. Yep, the old bitch was crazy. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, taking in scarves and tapestries, beaded curtains and dangling feathers, strange symbols scratched on the walls and even stranger cards on a round table. "Humph. Where's your crystal ball? Did you forget it at the coven with your pointy hat and broomstick?"

"Crystal ball? Sakes alive, son, I've not used one of those in years! Crystal ball, heh, heh. Next you'll be asking me to read your fortune with soggy old tea leaves." Snapping her knobby fingers, the inside of the wagon flared with sudden light. She tossed a bag of sweet smelling leaves to Seifer and climbed on a footstool. "They take up too much room and they weigh a fuckin' ton. Let's see _you_ try lugging one of those bastards around all day and see if your back doesn't ache like a sumbitch." She fumbled in a cabinet, tossing books and parchment to the floor. "Ah! Here we go. Now toss me that bag, Sonny Jim. I've got me a date with one hot teapot!" Chuckling, she caught the bag without turning. Seifer didn't remember even lifting his arms, much less tossing her the tea. Weird.

"It's Seifer, not Jim." The words tumbled out before he knew that his mouth was open. What the hell? Clamping his jaws shut, refusing to volunteer any more information about himself, he watched her light a ceramic burner and prepare water for the tea. She muttered and mumbled, grinning at him slyly, turning back to her work, and then mumbling some more. "Born a few centuries too late, weren't you, Sonny Seifer? Should have been born when great deeds mattered, eh? Maybe then your Lady would have noticed you, eh?" She snatched the bag from his hands, shaking a few leaves into a pair of cups. Wait. Didn't she just have it over there? He just tossed it to her, didn't he? Fucking hell. This was too damn trippy.

The wagon filled with the fragrant perfume of the strange tea. "Here. It's cold out tonight." Slapping a cup into his hands, she eased her old bones onto the cushioned footstool. Slurping loudly, she waited for Seifer to take a sip. "It ain't poisoned. And it's rude to hurt an old woman's feelings, you little shit." Seifer, carefully sniffing the amber liquid, took a swig and promptly spit it back out. "Oh, _now_ what's the trouble?"

"It's hot as hell!"

"Well, hell's bells, Sonny! O' course it is! I just made it! You have all the manners of a marlboro around a bottle of mouthwash. Your little lady friend was much better behaved."

"Lady? Are you talking about…never mind." Seifer placed his cup on her table. He mentally kicked himself for not retiring with Fujin and Rajin. Tired. Yes, he was tired, drunk and wanted to go to sleep. And more than that, he wanted to find his way back to the mead tent and have a drink with Quistis, even if it meant talking with her damned obnoxious friends…including the crackhead fairy on speed. "Thanks for the tea, but I need to head back. Busy day tomorrow with the tournament, gotta get a lot of stuff ready so I can… Hey! What the fuck are you doing?" Surprised at her strength and speed, Seifer found his hand tightly gripped in her bird-like claws. He pulled hard, but her bony fingers clutched and moved, tracing the lines on his palms and feeling the calloused pads of his fingertips. Still muttering, her glowing purple eyes bounced from his hands to his face and back again. "Hmm. Yes. Wrong time for you. Wrong time for her. You would have been great and she would have been a queen. Such power and such loyalty…ah well. Maybe it is all for the best." Seifer finally pulled away, his hand frozen from her touch. With anyone else, he would have stomped out, cursing and yelling, but he didn't think it would be a good idea with this woman. She smiled that gummy smile at him again, sinking into her cushion. "Yes…your Lady. She is like a cat, you know. A cat in the darkness."

"What the hell are you talking about? Who?"

"Yes…but then again, she _is _the darkness, isn't she? So different…rules her life like a bird in flight, doesn't she? Such an odd girl."

"Yep. I'm officially freaked out now, so I'm gonna leave before you grow wings or something fucked up like that." When she started cackling, Seifer knew it was time to exit Loony Town and rejoin the normal world. Seifer stepped out of the door and quickly reentered the fog, eager to put this whole strange episode behind him.

Still cackling, she hung out of the door and hollered after him, "Hey Sonny! She might warm up to you if you'd remember what I told you! And try using your fucking manners when you're around her!" Her voice echoed through the forest, following him back to the festival. Upon reaching the bright lights and pressing crowds, he breathed a sigh of relief. Yeah, that had to be just a weird dream or something.

"Hey, Sir Almasy! Great job taking care of the jester today!" Seifer grinned; glad to be back with _normal_ people. Time to throw on the act. "Many thanks, good sir. And a greater victory shall be mine on the morrow. Now, I find that my throat is mightily parched and my tongue cries out for a drop of mead. Pray excuse me."

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"Well, _you _hold her head up. I don't want to do it! NO! STOP! Oh, grooosssss…"

"EEEWWW!!! It's glittery!"

"Selphie. Selphie! What on earth have you consumed tonight? Do we need to consult a medic? I don't have a single cure spell…is anyone junctioned?" Quistis pulled Selphie's head out of the leaves and dragged her out of her vomit. Disgusted, she tried cleaning up the filthy pixie as best she could, considering that bathroom facilities were obviously not top of the list when the faire was planned. "Zell. ZELL! Quit capering long enough to get some water or find Xu. And if you say prithee one more fucking time, I'll slap that cap off of your head. Now go!" Zell vanished, bells ringing as he bolted to his tent. He could take a lot of shit, but hurling fairies were too much for him. Creepy. Fuck the water and the hell with finding Xu. Quistis could handle it. She knew how to handle anything.

"Well, shit. She's done it again, has she?" Irvine and Squall came upon the group, stomachs full and appetites satisfied after eating most of one vendor's stock of turkey and mutton. Irvine tipped his hat, greeting Quistis and Rinoa, appraising their costumes. "Great dress Rinoa. Very regal. And Miss Trepe! When did you grow such big…I mean, I sure am glad you're here, Quistits…umm, Quistis. Sorry. So, Quistis? Have those always been there? Wow. You need to unleash them more often." Bending down, Irvine's nose wrinkled at the shimmering silver puddle surrounding his girlfriend. "Looks like she got into the _Silverschlager_ again. And who's the artist? She won't be happy to find that someone has drawn balls on her chin for the second time this week. Oh well…nothing for it but to let her puke 'til she's empty. I better get her to our tent. I've got a potion in my bag. Thanks for watching out for her, Quistis." Hoisting Selphie over his shoulder, Irvine turned and nodded to the instructor, being very careful to look directly in her face. "I'm glad you came to this festival instead of spending the whole week at Garden. I think you're the only one out of all of us with any sense at all. Good night everybody."

"Heeey, ya gotta shay Pritheeee…pritheeeugh. Hey nonny, nonny and a ho, ho, hoooo…"

"Well, darlin', I do apologize, but I'll have to hold out on the prithees until we get you cleaned up." A final nod and Irvine and Selphie were gone, leaving the rest in the darkness around the rapidly emptying mead hall.

"It's about time you decide to join the party, Squall. I was afraid I was going to have to go hunting for my favorite knight, and I couldn't leave poor Selphie with just Quisty. She would have strangled her." Rinoa stood on her toes to kiss her boyfriend, happier than she had been all day. She loved her friends, but she always felt a little uncomfortable around Quistis. The older girl always seemed so darn distant, but she was worse after any encounter with Seifer. It never failed. "Yeah, sorry about that, Rin. I was busy with my practice. And I hate to be a spoilsport…" Quistis snorted. "…but I really just want to go to bed. Are you coming, or do you want to stay with…"

"Oh! I'm coming! Definitely." Tired of Zell's whining and Quistis' bitchiness, Rinoa was eager to run off into the woods with her handsome boyfriend. With Selphie out cold, she just didn't have a lot to say to the other members of the group. And Quistis had been acting so odd since she made that remark about Seifer's scar…well, she deserved to feel bad! It _wasn't _fair, after all. Seifer, when not possessed by evil sorceresses, really was a perfect gentleman. Quistis just didn't know when to turn off her bitch switch. "Yeah, I'm tired too, honey. G'night everyone!" And with that, they disappeared as well, leaving Quistis alone in the darkness. _Some friends_, she thought. _I didn't realize that camping was part of this festival scene. Great. What am I supposed to do now? I'd stay with Xu, but she took off after that guy in tights and I don't know which tent is hers. Fucking Selphie and her damned fund raisers. Fucking stuck-up Rinoa. Now all I need is to run into_…"Do mine eyes deceive me, or is that Milady facing the darkness without an escort?" …_Seifer. Fuck me._ "Not now, Seifer. I'm trying to figure out a way to either find Xu's tent or hitch a ride back to Garden."

"Hmm. Abandoned by your mates? The fair lady left to fend off the hordes of fiendish Trepies and rogues that travel the moonlit roads? Scoundrels! I'll part their heads from their shoulders for daring to endanger the virtue of my lady love." Laughing brightly, Seifer caught up with the furious figure of Quistis. She seemed much, much angrier than she had earlier that day. He couldn't blame her though. More than a few minutes in the company of Messenger Girl and Holier-than-thou Rinoa would be enough to drive anyone to white-hot fury. And angry or not, Seifer was so glad to see her that he would have given her the axe on bended knee if she meant to chop off his head. The encounter with the old woman in the woods bothered him still. "And Xu's tent? Why do you…You really don't have anywhere to sleep, do you? Did Tilmitt not tell you anything about how these things work? Customers pay to visit for a day, but participants and actors have to stay on the grounds."

"But I'm _not _a participant! I just came because I was bloody curious! I had no idea that I would be stuck here! I don't even know where to find the exit!" Quistis unsteadily stomped off, though it was nearly impossible to see far ahead in the foggy night. Seifer followed closely behind her, unable to take his eyes off her hair, curling slightly in the humidity. "Hey! Hold up, Milady! They won't let you leave the grounds. Not that I care about obeying some dumbass rule, but it is late as fuck and you'll never hitch a ride back to Garden in _that_ costume. If it meant that I could stare at you in that dress all night, then I'd invite you to stay in my tent." Stopping suddenly, Quistis glared at him, folding her arms across her chest, trying once more to cover her partially exposed bosom. She didn't realize how much power those puppies held until they entranced every male within three miles, specifically the man currently staring at…curiously enough, her eyes. Seifer grinned at her, white teeth flashing in the dark. Swiftly wrapping a thickly muscled arm around her bare shoulders, he leaned closer, surprised when she didn't try to tear his invasive arm from it's socket. He was also surprised when she almost fell into him, pressing her weight into his. Ah ha! The instructor must have had a wee bit too much to drink tonight. Interesting. Inhaling deeply, he nearly drowned in the rush of lavender and chamomile that assailed his nostrils. Damn the manufacturers of whatever shampoo she used. Nothing should be allowed to smell that good. And the stain of merlot on her lips was very appealing as well. He wondered if that aubergine tint would transfer to his own lips if he tried to taste the wine clinging to her mouth. Damn the winemakers too. And the seamstress that sewed her outfit. Damn them all for outfitting his beautiful nemesis with all of these potent weapons.

Distracted by the proximity of _that_ costume and her tipsy reliance on his strong arms, Seifer tried to remember that even if by some miracle she suddenly fell madly and hopelessly in love with him, good old light-sleeping Rajin was waiting at the tent. "Unfortunately, we won't be able to act on our animal impulses and fuck like rabbits, since Raj is sharing the same space. I know this breaks your heart, but perhaps some other time." Quistis relaxed ever so slightly when he said this. "I could throw him out though, if you want to tear that thing off and take advantage of me. I'll try to resist. Fujin is one tent over, so I'm sure he could shack up with her tonight."

"And who is staying with Fujin?"

"Nobody, I guess, but…"

"Then maybe she won't mind sharing with me for one night. From what I can recall, she didn't hate me as much as you and Rajin."

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"HARDER."

"FASTER."

"I'm trying, ya know. You keep sliding off! I can't go that fast Fu."

"FASTER."

"I told ya I wanted to be on top, but you said I'd squish ya, and…Oh God, I think, OH FUCK, FUJIN!"

"NOT YET!…DAMN."

"Wow, that was amazing Fu. I really…OW! What did I do, ya know? OW! Quit kicking me! How did you get your leg that high anyway?"

"IDIOT."

Seifer and Quistis stared at each other. Then they stared at the pulsating canvas walls of the large tent. Then they started laughing. Seifer gasped for breath, able at last to know what sex with the one-word, one-eyed Fujin would sound like. And not that he ever wondered about Rajin, but now he knew that the giant was also a one-minute man. Must be the steroids. Ah, the things one learned…

Quistis laid a hand on Seifer's arm. "Umm, Seifer? I don't think you'll be able to get in your tent tonight. Sounds like they are umm, occupied."

Seifer shook his head. "And I wondered why they seemed so eager to leave the party earlier. Well, looks like it's gonna be Fu's tent tonight, eh, Milady?"

"Do you think we should knock or…"

"Hell no! I am not, I repeat, am NOT about to walk in that tent and face Fu after she has been disappointed in _that_ department." Seifer shuddered. Knowing her temper, Fujin would only be interested in decapitating anything male within her reach. And the head on his shoulders wasn't the only one that had him concerned. Seifer said a silent prayer for Rajin, hoping that the big man could think of a way to satisfy the silver-haired woman before she escaped the tent and went on a sharp-bladed rampage.

"Okay, okay! Easy there, Sir Knight!" Quistis swallowed hard. Fantastic. Ditched by her friends, in an uncomfortable costume, drunk, and now about to be crammed in a tiny tent with Seifer Almasy. Granted, he was acting much more civil than he normally did, and he had finally stopped using those damned archaic words so much, but still…it was Seifer. So what if he happened to be tall and blonde and muscular? So what if he was looking at her with those dangerous green eyes like she was the most beautiful creature on the planet? So what if she found herself curious about how far that tan extended? So what? It was still Seifer and he would probably do something mean and horrible…like pushing her down or pulling her hair. Hmm. Yes, pulling her hair and whispering her name and using those hands and that tongue to make her scream and…

_Stop it! Just because you're dressed like a two gil whore doesn't mean you have to act the part. You're not a participant, remember? _

_Yes, but you're lonely and bored and it IS kind of cold. And did you happen to feel how hard the muscles in his arm were, dear? If his arms are that hard, imagine what other bits of him will be like. Especially certain bits that fit in other certain bits. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. And if you still insist on being ladylike about it…did you see how he smiled at you? And admit it…you love that Milady bullshit, even if it is kind of silly. _

_Well, yes, but…_

_But nothing, dear. This is your brain speaking and you've listened to me since you were old enough to do some cognatin'! So, ignore me and just act, darling._

_Wait a tic…cognatin'? That's not my brain! That's some other part of me, like…_

_Yes, darling. I'm your under-sexed, horny as hell, dying-to-get laid libido that you so ruthlessly ignore. You pay too much attention to that attention-whore brain of yours. What about the rest of you, er…me? _

_I don't ignore the rest of you, er, me. I've just been busy. There have been so many improvements to Garden to worry about lately, and the financial crisis with the…_

_Yes, dear, but look over to your left. He's staring at your tits again. Er, our tits, er, whatever. Are you going to jump his bones or are you going to argue with me, us, yourself…oh fuck it, Quistis. You think too damned much anyway. Climb on, fasten your safety belt, and let him fuck me right out of your skull. What have your brains done for you lately, darling?_

_Yes, I suppose I do think too…oh God, he really is staring at me like he wants to lick my…oh fuck me. Ready brain? Ready libido? Good job, girls. You've succeeded in driving me so damn mad that I want to tear my clothes off and roll in the dirt with Seifer fucking Almasy. Now what?_

Quistis shook her head, trying to clear the voices clamoring for her attention. It was all well and good to talk to oneself on occasion, but to have your mind and your sex-starved id duke it out in front of a man that liked to dress up as a knight and play with his lance in public places…well, surely that had to have a whole different definition of crazy added to the psychiatric journals.

Smiling broadly, making Seifer feel rather nervous about her hasty shift in attitude, she followed him into Fujin's tent with no hesitation. "Umm, alright, Trepe. Here we go. Looks like Fu has a cot, two blankets, some clothes and her bag. I'll take the floor if I can have the blankets, and you can take the cot. Surely those skirts will keep you warm tonight, but you might need something to cover your…why are you staring at me like that? They _are_ pushed practically up to your chin. I can't help but notice them, so don't look at me like…"

"Oh hush, Seifer. And slide over. It's fucking cold and I'm not making you sleep on the ground. I guess we'll have to share this thing tonight. Pity it's so narrow…" Quistis pulled Seifer down next to her, ignoring the fact that his sword was digging into her hip. Well, trying to ignore it. Ah, maybe later. Her head was too muddled with wine to listen to the screaming voices of the raging battle between her brain and loins.

"Pity? Really?"

"Don't start, Sir Almasy." Voice husky and low, she wiggled deeper in the blankets, already halfway asleep. "There's not even enough room to turn over, much less attempt any sort of demonstration of your swordsmanship. So keep it in your sheath, or pants, or whatever. I'm trying to sleep. We have many military matters to discuss tomorrow. Matters of unguarded flanks, breaching walls, thrust and penetration… " Quistis drifted off, leaving Seifer with a _very _big problem.

Namely the fact that his leg had fallen asleep, prickling with that weird sensation he always heard described as 'pins and needles'. Seifer thought the peculiar burning felt nothing like pins, and certainly nothing like needles. This feeling was distracting and kept his mind from wandering to…oh damn it straight to hell! It wasn't working! No matter how he moved, some soft, fragrant part of Quistis was pressed into him, making Seifer wish that he had spent the night with his horse in the stables.

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Note: Yeah, I love Stevie Nicks. Love, love, love Stevie Nicks. The 'cat in the darkness' bit is from _Rhiannon, _which is the greatest song ever written. Don't even try to argue with me about that fact or I'll throw something heavy at you. Hmm, let's see…there was another Shakespeare line, and the military matters bit is stolen straight from Kitiara, who happens to be the single sexiest character in the entire Dragonlance saga. Yeah, yeah…I know, but I've read those books since I was ten years old. Can't help it, I love 'em.

And Quistis…I always thought that she would talk to herself a lot, simply because she was so much smarter than the other characters. And who else but Seifer could make her super-ego get in a mental fistfight with her id?


	4. Chapter 4

"GOOD MORROW LORDS AND LADIEEEEEES!"

"GOOD MORROW LORDS AND LADIEEEEEEEEES!"

"GOOD MORROW LORDS AND LADI…OW! WHO THREW THAT?"

Zell hated mornings. Zell also hated that Selphie thought that he should be the one to usher in those mornings, waking an entire cast of actors with vicious hangovers. If he was beaned by one more, just_ one more_, empty bottle, then he was packing up his bells, joke cards, and pink unicycle and capering on out the gates. After all, a fool could only handle so much embarrassment before he wanted to trade his cream pies for an assault rifle. He huffed and thumped louder on his goatskin drum. There _was_ such a thing as foolish dignity, the problem was that the ignorant masses saw him only as comic relief.

Zell continued his cries, shouting through the faire and pounding his drum, his pointy shoes carrying him nimbly from tent to tent and somehow managing to help him avoid any more airborne glassware. Perhaps the faire would realize his role as joking jester was vital to the smooth operation of the festival. There hadn't been any more bottles since he bellowed his indignation and rage, maybe they were _finally_ coming to understand his importance in the grand stage that was the Balamb Faire. A bit more cheerful after these soothing thoughts drifted over his troubled mind, Zell pounded his drum with greater enthusiasm, the tattoo on his face crinkling in a broad grin.

The boot that hit his head came as a complete surprise.

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Quistis needed coffee.

Desperately.

Heads would roll if she didn't get her java fix.

It had happened before, and it could happen again…starting with the man that currently had his face buried in her long tresses, his blonde head pinning her own fair strands to the cot. Quistis couldn't get her coffee when she was chained to a snoozing Seifer by her own hair. She snorted, figuring that a scenario like this would be absolutely perfect fantasy fodder for the proper sort of bondage freak. Damn it, she needed that coffee and she needed it now. Almost twitching from caffeine withdrawal, she gave him a rough shake. "Seifer. Seifer! Wake up!"

"Mmm? Milady, stirrest thou from thine sweet dreams? Hush, beautiful aureate queen, for the nightingale yet sings her sorrowful nocturne. Sleep again, for the cock hath yet to summon the sun that shall soon set thine honey'd hair to flame with glorious gilded light. 'Til we hear his cry, hush and a'bye, Milady, rest…mmm…" Seifer, speaking to Quistis, but not yet with the waking world, was still lost in some romantic dream involving witches with tea fetishes, an evil black knight, and a nude and nubile lady that was in dire need of his skills with his lance. Impressed by his words, but still imprisoned by threads of her own silk, she poked him in his broad shoulder. And something about his poetry was very familiar…this from the guy who came up with names like Chickenwuss and Puberty Boy? Hmm…

"What ho, my fair buxom lass? Are there brigands about? I shall smite them with the fury of a thousand suns…" His hand flew up, grasping the hilt of a dream-sword, eager to draw the blade through the guts of any knave that would dare offend his lady. Quistis felt her breath freeze in her throat when his arm fell across her belly, the strong limb drawing her closer to his chest. "Fear not, Milady. The rogue shall not plague thee while I guard thine slumber."

"Seifer! Wake UP!" Her pleas went unanswered, except for the rumbling snores and occasional muttered 'Fiend!' or 'Ruffian!'. Quistis struggled mightily, but she was unable to make that hard, muscular body slide over…or under…or on top…or behind…_Stop it, Quistis! You've already had this discussion with yourself. _Taking a breather, she watched Seifer sleep and dream, No doubt riding his mighty charger, sword held aloft to do battle with his imaginary foes or slay the fearsome ruby dragon and win the lady fair. Even in sleep, he seemed so serious about his knightly duties, so determined, so damned good looking. _You're doing it again, girl. You may as well just give it up and see what he wears under that doublet. I bet it's the same thing he wears under his armor, more or less. Hopefully less. Want me to get all poetic like he did? Okay…the nightingale has long finished her song, but wasn't this in a movie or play? He's good looking, but he ain't exactly a poet. Anyway, that damn bird quit whistling and here you are, still yearning for that strapping lad and his powerful…wit. Morning has broken and the cock must crow. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. _Quistis groaned. Her puns, even those of her lusty and recently _very _vocal subconscious mind, were never as witty or as entertaining as as Seifer's, although the horny little bitch was proving to be every bit as annoying as Seifer on his worst days.

Ah well, if she couldn't out-pun him, she'd settle for messing with his mind while he slept, toying with his dreams of valor and chivalry.

Lifting her hair off of his face so it didn't seem as if he was losing a battle against a golden hydra that happened to have incredible bounce and shine, Quistis moved closer to Seifer and began whispering in his ear. "Lord Almasy, my brave knight! Oh, woe is me! Thou must make haste and come to my rescue, for evil deeds have been done 'ere break o' the day." She smiled when his eyebrows drew together and his face became grim, rightly guessing that that the teasing green eyes hidden behind those closed lids would be burning with a righteous fire. "Milady? Art thou troubled? Tell me, that I may aim my arrow at the black heart of the devil that worries thee." Quistis almost giggled. Oh, but this _was_ fun. Maybe Seifer had the right idea about this faire from the beginning. Not that she would ever tell him, of course.

"Oh, save me, my good and true sir, save me. A great treasure hath been spirited away by a wicked goblin, a burning liquid which containeth in it's mahogany depths my very life force. I fear that without this bless'd brew, my lifeless form shall stir from this bed nevermore. Alas!" Quistis finished with a sigh, waiting for Seifer to perhaps…"Fear not, Milady. This thieving ogre shall feel the sting of my…OOF!"…bloody hell, just fall off of the cot and onto his ass. Oh well, it was all for the best anyway. Quistis leaned over the edge of the mattress and pouted her lips, disappointment quickly turning to impish mirth when she viewed the prone figure of one royally pissed-off knight on the tent floor. "Why, good morrow, Sir Knight! Dost thou favor the company of the cold ground more than mine own? Has this earthy wench tempted thee away from my own 'exquisite azure skies' with promises of great fortune hidden in her depths? For none but dwarves are bold enough to bury their tools in _her _wide caverns."

"Goddamn it, will you shut the hell up?" Seifer rubbed his head, throbbing from an excess of red wine and a few bruises from the previous night's brawl. Damn it, the ground was _hard_ and he had been so very comfortable. He angrily sat up and met the blue eyes peeking at him through tangled blonde hair. "Why'd you throw me outta the fucking bed?"

"Oh woe! Oh spite! He is possessed, speaking a foreign tongue that is unknown to me! Alas, m'lord lost to an ageless whore whose body of clay hath been trampled by many men…" Quistis was laughing loudly by this point, nearly breathless, her lyrical notes filling the tent with a sweet music. "…and many women as well. Thine eagerness to leave my own warm bed and fall into her dirty lap leaves me with a chill that freezes m' heart, oh sir. And yet…mayhap my knight feels kindly enough towards his old mistress to fulfill his destiny and complete his quest? 'Twas but a moment ago that m'lord pledged his undying love to me and eternal loyalty to my noble cause, vowing to veil the light of yon burning celestial orb if 'twould bring me my heart's desire. Oh fickle fate, what sin was mine, that thou hast turned his eye from me?"

Quistis finally stopped laughing when she saw that Seifer really was very uncomfortable. Were those bruises on his face there last night? It was very dark, and the torches scattered about the faire were probably more for enhancing the medieval mood than they were for actually illuminating anything practical, like the huge contusions on Seifer's face and neck.

"Oh fuck, what damn quest?" Seifer rose from the floor and plopped on the cot next to the newly dramatic Quistis, who was watching him with a keen, piercing interest. Damn it. Were her lips always that shade of pink? And what the hell was she talking about? And why was she _finally _getting into the spirit of the faire at six in the fucking morning? And why couldn't she have decided to play along when his pain from the fight was still dulled by the wine?

God, she pissed him off sometimes, but he didn't want her to stop talking like that just yet. Even though his head was throbbing, he couldn't help but notice how good she looked with that whole wrinkled-dress-tangled-bedroom-hair-sleepy-sexy-blue-eyes vibe she had going this morning. And coupled with those words he liked so much, he found that his pulse was pounding a bit lower than just that one painful spot behind his eyes. A lot lower. "I mean, umm, what quest, Milady?"

"Oh cruel fates! My knight hath forsaken me! He hath forgotten his oath to fetch the elixir of life, the essence of mine soul, the bless'd and holy coffee." She tried smiling at him with this final jest, hoping to put him in a better mood, but he just groaned and fell back on the cot. "Fuck, Instructor, don't make me go fetch coffee right now. I've got one bitching headache and I just want to go back to sleep."

"Hmm. Does your head hurt from the wine or that huge bruise on your cheek? And you should go get some coffee. It will help your hangover. Well, that , and about half a dozen aspirin." Leaning over Seifer, she carefully studied the angry mark that had been hidden by her hair earlier, lightly brushing the purple edge with her fingers. "But we may need to see about getting a potion for your face. That is a nasty bruise, Seifer."

"How the hell am I supposed to know which damn thing is splitting my head in two?"

"God, I was just asking! Hell, see if I ever try to help you again, you hateful fuck!" Furious at his switch from poet to asshole, Quistis stood and tried to smooth the worst of the wrinkles from her costume, but gave it up as a hopeless case. Selphie would be so disappointed, but Quistis was overjoyed. Maybe she could find something else to wear besides the dress she had to keep for that bet. Ducking under the canvas flap, Quistis shot one more venomous glare to the miserable knight. "And you better get over your little ailment quickly, Almasy. You have to beat Irvine in archery today, or you'll be wearing this corset with your helmet. And I hope to hell it squeezes the breath out of you." A quick blast of chilly air and Quistis was gone, stomping through brittle autumn leaves on her way to find her friends and a better costume. "Stupid Seifer and his damn lines…maybe he has that poetic shit written on his palms. I _know _he's not that damn smooth."

_Yes dear, but it wasn't the bad quotes that had you ready to jump him, was it? One look at those thighs of his and you were ready to test his stamina like you NEVER tested it in class. And if he can keep you in a state like this for much longer, you're either going to have to engage him in a sweaty, lovely, give-and-take battle that will leave you screaming and begging for more, or you are going to have to invest in your own special lance, my dear. And I don't think they sell batteries at an event like this, honey. Cause let's face it, he's driving you, me…us, absolutely mad, isn't he? _

_Shut up, brain._

_No darling, I'm about as far from brainy as you can be, remember?_

_Well, no actually. I've simply not very acquainted with you yet…_

_Yes, yes…I know. Believe me sister, I fucking know. Now don't you go running too far from that lad, even if he talks in his sleep like a madman. He was dreaming about taking you for one hell of a ride, you know that right?_

_How the hell do you know?_

_Oh, I keep up with his horny, down-to-fuck side on a regular basis. You might call us very old friends. We've been in contact ever since you started teaching him. Remember how he drove you crazy back then? Well, that was Seifer's id and myself having some hellacious conversations about you._

_No, he just pissed me off everyday. I certainly wasn't attracted to him._

_No dear, you've always had it for him because he's the bad boy after the good girl. And yes, that was us, always tickling the backs of your minds, hoping that you would eventually end up fucking like animals. Pheromones, you know. _

_Chemical signals that are utilized in beasts to…_

_Hey, shut up, Brain! I'm trying to get us laid here!_

_I know, but with SEIFER? Did you not just listen to how he combined three of the world's most beloved plays into one clumsy seduction attempt? Oh, if the Bard had heard such a bastardization of his work…_

_He would have said, 'Jolly good show, Seifer. Now get in there and make her moan in iambic pentameter.' That's EXACTLY what he would have said, Brain. Now go back to your end of the body, I'm handling things on the other end._

_That's what I'm afraid of, and anyway, I hardly think that one of the worlds most beloved playwrights would…._

_SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU, ER…US! My God, I think I've lost my mind._

_Just as long as you have at least one or two orgasms before you get thee shipped to a nunnery…_

_Damn it, that is NOT what he meant in that play. Quite the opposite, in fact. _

_Yes, it is. You talk too much, Brain_

_No, it isn't. And at least I think before I speak, you great slut._

_Is. _

_Isn't._

Quistis stuck her fingers in her ears and, ignoring the Trepies whose pupils bounced along with her, ran to find Selphie. If any single person would know what to do about jabbering voices and animal lust combined into one crazy package, then Selphie Tilmitt was her girl.

Well, there was always the possibility of sitting down with Seifer and having a rational conversation, discussing perfectly adult matters like…

_Adult matters? Now you're talking…_

God…not again.

_--------------------------------------------------------------------_

Seifer groaned louder after Quistis left him to wallow in his misery. With the exceptions of the nutty hag, getting punched in the eye, the fight in the wine tent, hearing his posse have very strange sex, his terrible headache, and Quistis' bitchy attitude…plus, the worst case of blue balls he could recall; yes, with these exceptions it had been a pretty good night. Hell, it would have been a great night if he had thrown Raj and Fuu out of his tent, instead laying his lady down on his own cot, which was a lot roomier than Fujin's.

In fact, he could have almost sworn that…did she really say 'thrust and penetration'? Hmm…maybe his headache wasn't as bad as he thought. After all, a mere headache couldn't stop the White Knight from soundly defeating the Emerald Ranger and getting one step closer to claiming his beautiful prize.

Why the hell did she have to leave in such a fit? And why did she have to look so fucking hot when she got mad? And why wasn't he chasing after her? He didn't even get the chance to really enjoy her company last night…well, he did enjoy her company, but he would have really enjoyed the chance to show her that he was a most generous host. And damn it, she had to run off, taking _that _costume with her. That costume and her soft skin, and that hair that smelled so fucking good, and those lovely, perfect…

_So, why aren't you running after her, eh, Seifer?_

"Trust me brain, running isn't exactly an option right now. I don't even think I could fit into my armor without snapping off my favorite weapon."

Seifer buried his face in the bed that still smelled like her lavender and chamomile shampoo, the shape of her body still faintly visible in the twisted blankets.

God, what a bitch.

---------------------------------

Note: Sorry, it's kind of short, but work is really fucking busy, so I'm having to rush this. I'll go back and fix stuff when my shift is over.

And Seifer always seemed like he would have a thing for characters that make grand and memorable speeches, hence his reliance on twisting Shakespeare's (or the Bard, as I'm calling him in FFVIII universe) lines.

I used to have a fairly odd teacher that would pull quotes from Shakespeare's plays and have us guess the hidden meanings behind some of the really famous shit, like "Get thee to a nunnery" could have meant a convent or a whorehouse, which I thought was perfect for Q and her confused, horny little self in this chapter.

This teacher thought this shit was hilarious, he called it Bastardization of the Bard. Fun game, if you like that sort of thing. I used it here for S to try to get into Q's pants. Just seemed to fit him. So, I think I've used bits of lines from a combination of _Romeo and Juliet, Much Ado About Nothing, Hamlet, _and a sonnet…ooh, can't remember which one right now. I'll look it up later.

Oh, here's another coughing, hacking patient, time to go back to work. Yuck. Once again, I'll make my additions to this chapter at the end of the shift.


	5. Chapter 5

Note: One more Stevie Nicks line. _Gold Dust Woman_. Great song.

Oh! And Quistis' mad alter ego...I keep imagining Patsy Stone from _Absolutely Fabulous _when crazy Quistis has her lines. I've always thought that Quistis might end up a lot like her...slightly mad, alcoholic, chain-smoking...simply because it has to be very stressful, teaching a school of mercenaries.

So, in my kooky little mind--nice, sane Quistis sounds like Julie Andrews--prim and proper, but crazy Quistis is straight up Patsy on the rocks. Cheers, darlings!

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"I told you, Selphie, she was _fine._ There is no need to worry about her. You know that she likes to spend her time alone."

"I don't care, Rin. You shouldn't have left her like that."

"I just figured that she would stay with Xu. I didn't know that she had nowhere to sleep last night."

"I've already asked Xu about it. She's not heard from her, and neither has Zell. We've gotta find her before the archery contest this afternoon."

"Well, if you were Quisty, where would you be?"

"If _I _were Quisty? Oh, that's easy! _I _would be twirling a ribbon around Sir Almasy's maypole and singing a merry tune. Tra-la-lally-yay!"

"_Selphie!_ This is _Quistis_ we're talking about here! She would never do a thing like that!"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. She told us herself that she has no musical aptitude…and I know for a fact that she didn't bring any ribbons with her. So, the maypole is out. Hmm."

"That is _not _what I meant!"

"Oh come on, Princess! I can tell that she has a wild streak hidden somewhere under that big old brain of hers…oh wait! There she is! QUISTEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

Selphie grabbed a handful of Rinoa's skirt and dragged her to the only pavilion that sold caffeine instead of alcohol. A few patrons with bloodshot eyes were milling about, stumbling and moaning about their headaches, mugs in hand, trying valiantly to recover from the debauchery of the previous night. Quistis was sitting on a bench, pouring coffee down her throat and massaging her temples, obviously suffering from a bad hangover as well, and still feeling the effects of Seifer's speech patterns. "Ye gods, Selphie! Tame thine tongue! I have the most Dionysian of headaches, one that would make the wine god himself weep in sympathy. Aye, my poor head. Hush thine screeching and wailing."

"Hee hee! You said 'Ye'. Are you finally getting into the spirit of things? And just where the hell were _ye_ last night? We've searched hither and yon, o'er hill and o'er mountain, and now our quest is at an end, for the lady is found! Huzzah!" Rinoa rolled her eyes. How could Selphie be so energetic after drinking so much the night before? Her recovery abilities were uncanny and, at least to Rinoa, somewhat frightening. "Where were you last night, Quistis? If I had known that you didn't have anywhere to sleep, I would have invited you to stay with Squall and myself. We've looked for you all morning."

Nodding vigorously, Selphie's headdress fell to the ground. When she bent to retrieve it, she noticed for the first time the state of Quistis' crumpled costume. The shriek carried into the tops of the trees, displacing birds from their roosts with many angry squawks and outraged whistles. "EEEEEK! And what happened to your dress? I had to order that all the way from Esthar! We have to get those wrinkles out _now_!" Jumping on the bench, Selphie cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed, causing the small crowd under the trees to grab their ears and give a collective miserable groan. "HEAR YE! HEAR YE! CALL THE WRINKLE-SMITH! CALL THE WRINKLE-SMITH!!!"

Hissing when the loud shout reverberated in the chambers of her wine-swollen head, Quistis yanked Selphie down by her wings, filling her espresso with glitter and sequins. "What the hell are you talking about? A wrinkle-smith? I've never heard such nonsense." Selphie's jaw dropped at Quistis' ignorance of medieval matters and her disgust at finding glitter in her coffee. According to Selphie, some of the world's finest drinks were alcoholic suspensions for heavy metals. "I can't believe you, Q. You're a _teacher _and you mean to tell me that you don't know about a _wrinkle-smith?_ I'faith! Look, Lady Q, a locksmith makes locks, a blacksmith hammers out metal, and a wrinkle-smith hammers out wrinkles. Surely you didn't think I'd organize a faire like this and not have a wrinkle-smith. Now come on, we've got to get your dress fixed."

"Thanks, but I'd much rather find something else to wear, Selphie. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to _Ye Olde Costume Rentals, Lost and Found, and ATM_. Good day, ladies." Quistis stood from the bench and tried to shake the inquisitive pair hovering around her throbbing head. She wanted to ask Selphie for advice about Seifer and the mad voices in her head, but she certainly couldn't do it around Rinoa. Tossing her coffee cup in the bin marked _Pollute not, lest ye find a plague visited upon thine head_, she bounced past Rinoa and Selphie, counting on her long legs to carry her far from the shorter girls. She hadn't counted on two bundles of tenacious curiosity latching onto her arms and dragging her through the faire.

"You know, it's a shame about that, Lady Q, 'cause the only costumes left are a burlap sack for the guy that will be stuck in the pillory and a pair of shackles, so you're stuck with your costume. And don't change the subject! We were worried about you!" Selphie's wings shook with the full fury of fairyland, dusting both Quistis and Rinoa with metallic silver and pink particles. "What on earth did you do to get your dress so wrinkled? And your hair so tangled? And why does a maidenly blush besmirch thine cheek? Did you…"

"What? What's with that look?" Quistis tried to pull away from Selphie, whose cute fairy grin had transformed into something far more sinister. Seeing such an evil grin, Quistis was reminded that the fairies and sprites in the ancient tales weren't the friendly, happy-go-lucky spirits that currently decorated posters and t-shirts. No, the fairies of old were the ones that spoiled milk and switched children; the same imps that destroyed crops just because they thought it would be funny. And Selphie looked exactly like one of those wicked pixies, all shimmering malevolence and fiendish fun. "Selphie? Why are you smiling like that?"

"Just where _did _you spend last night, eh, Lady Quistis? Ye didn't happen to cross the path of a certain knight garbed in white, did ye? Ye didn't sheathe his sword for him, did ye?"

"What? NO!"

Rinoa and Selphie looked at each other and laughed. "Oh, come on Quistis! What were you doing then?"

Quistis jerked her arms from the giggling brunettes. "After _you _and _you_ ditched me last night, I spent half the night wandering around this god-forsaken faire. And yes, I ran into Seifer, and he was _kind_ enough to offer me a place to sleep. And that's it."

"AH HA! I knew it! And did you have a merry olde time, then?"

"No. As a matter of fact, it was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my entire life."

"Surely the lady jests. Truly? She spent her night in repose and not engaged in that most pleasurable of kingly sports? Are you fucking crazy?" Selphie slapped Quistis on the back of the head and promptly ducked behind Rinoa for protection. "Oh shit. Umm, please forgive this humble spirit o' the forest! Cast your evil eye elsewhere! Trouble not those who meant only to umm…let's see…oh, fuck it. Really, Q. What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _me_?" Quistis wanted to choke the glitter out of Selphie, but the fairy made a good point. _See Darling? Even your friends think you're mad for passing on that opportunity. I mean, honestly. Think about it, love. You have one woman that looks like she was rejected by the Deling City Gay Pride Parade and another that would be perfectly at home with those elves that live in a tree and make cookies, and both of THEM are questioning YOUR sanity. Tsk, tsk, dear. You should have listened to me. _"Shut up."

Rinoa and Selphie exchanged worried glances. "Which one of us do you want to shut up, Quisty? 'Cause neither of us said a word just now."

"Ooo! Neither of you. I was talking to…" _Yep, tell them you were telling yourself to shut up. Come now, darling. You paid attention in your history classes. You know as well as I do that mad women like yourself that talked to voices in their heads were called witches and executed. Keep this up and they'll have you tossed in a pond or tied to a stake. And wouldn't you much rather have that charming fellow tie you down to the bedposts instead of a stake? Sounds like more fun, eh? _"…never mind. And yes, I suppose that you were right about Seifer, Rinoa. Even though he is insufferably arrogant and the biggest jerk I know, last night he was almost pleasant."

Selphie seemed ready to make another comment, but Rinoa clapped her hand over the fairy's mouth. She couldn't believe it. Quistis Trepe had nearly complimented Seifer Almasy. If Selphie would keep her trap shut, then the rest of the tournament could prove to be very interesting. "Yes, well, there are times when he can also be an absolute asshole too. So I can see why he drives you insane. Now, come on. Squall and Irvine are trying to get in a few more practice rounds in before the contest this afternoon, and we could all use a chance to freshen up before we meet them. Let's see about getting you straightened out a bit before your knight sees you in such a state."

"An' tompf uh Sheefurr un bmmff phuckk Quishhtesssh wiff hish huge mmmffff! And then they could shooof fueer but it would work with some lube or ugher mmefrroot and they could invite some friends to asiitf ooo and ye olde foorlamor! Hee hee! And they're both blonde, so they would look great if they wore a errunf sjooth and red feathers weffer spring-loaded, vibrating seddwefoo even if he is that tall and she could just bend over and use her tongue to seroohga fekxz! Huzzah!" Selphie couldn't speak clearly with Rinoa's hand over her mouth, but her vivid green eyes and wiggling eyebrows were more than enough to suggest something rather, well, suggestive. Quistis wasn't sure if she should blush, scream, curse, or thank Selphie for giving her a compliment about her hair.

"What did she say?"

Rinoa poked Selphie in the ribs with the hand that wasn't smashing her lips together. If she could keep Quistis in a fairly decent mood (and keep Selphie from blowing it), then maybe the rest of the afternoon would be a regular lark. "I, uh, I'm really not sure, Quistis. I think it was in old Estharian and I'm just not fluent in the really old languages. But that doesn't matter right now. I want to go and cheer my dear knight. Huzzah! Ow!" Selphie bit Rinoa's hand, finally gaining her freedom. Adjusting her wings and headdress, she pranced and danced for the benefit of the growing crowds. "Yeah! And I want to cheer my Lord Irvy Kinnepoo! Huzzah!"

Laughing at Selphie, Rinoa took Quistis' arm and gave her the special, persuasive smile that made Squall melt and obey her every desire. She knew that Quistis would never admit it, but she felt certain that the instructor was flattered by the attention given to her by the handsome knight. After all, Seifer could have taken his pick from any of the beautiful ladies that winked and flirted with him, but he chose to battle for the blonde on her arm. "And how about the Lady Trepe? Does she plan to cheer her brave champion this afternoon as he challenges the bold Leonhart and the stalwart Kinneas? If he knew that his lady fair sat in the stands, shouting only for him, then he might actually be…some _competition_ for my own knight." Her smile grew a bit wider when she saw the tiny flash of anger that passed over her friend's blue eyes. Yep, even though she hated him, she wanted Seifer to win this tournament. Sure, he drove her crazy, but Rinoa couldn't remember the last time that a man made the cool and collected Quistis Trepe blush like a silly schoolgirl. "Oh, come on, Quistis. Is it really that bad that Seifer wants to be your knight?"

"Don't push it Princess. He's not fighting for _me; _he's fighting for the way my knockers look in this costume. Besides, I have a bet going with Sir Almasy and cheering him would hurt my cause. I'll remain a neutral party and cheer for nobody except for Zell. At least he amuses me." _Yes, let the fool amuse you darling, but remember that you sure weren't thinking about bells and cream pies when you were lusting after those muscles this morning. And did you even pull yourself out of your bitchiness long enough to notice that he seemed so damned disappointed when you left him? All alone? He would have torn that costume from your shoulders and made you moan like a preacher's daughter on spring break, love, but NO! You had to run off and act like a stuck-up bitch. What if he finds some other lovely lady to hoist his standard, eh? He still hangs around with that girl with the patch, right? That girl with the PATCH? Terrible slang, I know, but still…do you even realize just how far I can go with this? Patch? One-eye? Oh, I can go on forever, dear. _

_I wish you wouldn't. For all his faults, he's always been brutally honest. I don't think that he'd imply that I am his muse and singular source of inspiration if he had another woman in mind. _

_Oh, you may be right. But, then again…you always have had so much trouble reading signals, haven't you, dear? _

_Shut the fuck up, Brain. _

_You forget, darling. I'm not your brain. That smart ass cunt is holed up in your noggin, enjoying this tawdry little act, while I'm slaving away, trying my damn hardest to convince you that you'll only be rid of me once you decide that you want to indulge that perfect knight in his chivalrous little fantasies. Cheers, darling!_

_GOD! Shut up!_

"Umm, Quisty? Really. Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes. I've just had a very stressful night. Seifer and I had a most unpleasant disagreement about our wager."

"Oh, you really do have a bet, do you? Well, well…that explains everything then, doesn't it?"

_-----------------------------------------------_

"Pull!"

_Crash, shatter, crunch_

Pull!"

_Crash, shatter, crunch_

"Pull!"

_Crash, shatter, crunch_

"Pull!"

"Hey, I can't, Sir! Outta bottles, ya know."

"IMPRESSIVE."

Seifer searched the ground around their tents for any other objects that would make suitable targets for his quickie archery practice session, but anything that could be shot already had an arrow through it. Hats, boots, magazines…Fujin's favorite eye-patch.

The green glass from the bottles littered the campsite with emerald light, sharp facets reflecting the early morning sunshine in broken, dizzy rainbows. "Ye Gods! How the hell am I to win the approval of my lady fair if I can't even count on my mates?"

"Well, Sir, since the contest is this afternoon, I don't think just a few more minutes of practice is going to do ya a lot of good, ya kn…HEY! DON'T SHOOT THOSE DAMN THINGS AT ME!" Raijin jumped behind Fujin, rightly figuring that even Seifer didn't have the balls to shoot at her. Not after the eye patch episode. Yeesh. "You just need to relax, Sir! Leonhart is a worse shot than you, and the rest of the guys suck, so the only one you need to worry about is the cowboy. And you've hit everything I've thrown this morning, so chill out!" Indeed he had. Had Irvine been there to watch Seifer hit every single hurled target, he would have tipped his hat to the knight. Hitting a stationary target was one thing, but pulling back an arrow and still managing to pierce a flying chunk of glass before it touched the ground…that took talent.

Seifer threw his bow down in disgust. Before he saw Quistis in all of her shiny, golden, buxom glory, the tournament was just a way to kill time and leave a few bruises on his competitors. Simple fun and a few laughs. But now, knowing that he absolutely _had _to get her alone again, and in _that_ costume, beating the hell out of the competition was more important than just fun. And knowing that the old fortune teller bitch was right about his manners…well fuck it all to hell in a goddamned piece of shit wicker basket…that made it even worse. The lady fair was actually playing along with him this morning! And damn it all, she almost acted like she was enjoying his company! Instead of worrying about some archery contest, had he watched his tongue, Seifer knew that he might still be wrapped in the arms of his lady.

"SIR?"

"What do you want, Fu?"

"PROBLEM?"

"Yeah, Sir, you're acting kind of weird, ya know. I know you're mad about us in the tent and all, but it'll be…OW! Why'd you kick me, Fu?"

"IDIOT." Fujin was very fond of the big man, but she lost patience with him so easily. After she heard Seifer pacing in front of the tents just after sunrise, she knew that something had happened to ruin his good mood. And, knowing that he was aching for the instructor, she figured that it had something to do with her. And, realizing that the blonde hair she discovered tangled in her sheets was way too long to belong to Seifer and most certainly didn't come from her own silver head, she deduced that the mighty Lord Almasy, scourge of the Balamb Faire, had met his match in a perfumed lass with killer hair and a nice set of tits. It bloody damn figured. "LADY?"

Seifer looked truly miserable. "Aye, madame! To defend the lady from night and her minions, I spirited her to our camp, away from the cruel fog and clutching hands of yon foul Trepie army. But I am accursed! My lily, my sweet lady, asleep in my very arms, her golden charms and ivory beauty so close to mine bosom, and I! I, a greater fool than yon capering moron, I wake her not with gentle words or a tender caress. I summon the wing'd demon of mine own evil tongue and frighten her from my tent. Cursed am I, for now Milady hath pledged to take the air from mine throat with her own corset." Seifer ran his hands through his hair and paced the campsite, furious at himself. A gaggle of giggling idiot girls passed by the tent and waved at the handsome knight, tossing ribbons and favors, but upon seeing his murderous green gaze, they decided to flirt with another, friendlier participant. They winked at Raijin, who made sure that Fujin wasn't looking before he returned the wink.

"Hey, I don't know, Sir. That actually sounds kind of kinky. It might even be fun, 'cause Trepe is really hot, ya know." Raijin felt the air knocked from his lungs when Fujin kneed him in the gut. "Not as hot as you, though. Ya know, Fu….ooof…"

Before Raijin could crush it, Fujin picked Seifer's bow from the ground and gave it a quick examination, satisfied that it would serve her lord well in his upcoming contest. True, eagle-eyed Kinneas would be a challenge, but Fujin had complete faith in her leader. She handed the bow back to Seifer, her single eye watching him carefully. The times when she felt the need to use polysyllabic phrases were very few, but today was one of those rare occasions. "Perhaps you should just use your manners around your lady, sir. I noticed the way she watched you at the tilt yesterday. You have _definitely_ caught her eye, but acting like an arrogant bastard won't get you far with her." She smiled when Seifer gave her one of his trademark devilish grins. "And wear the fire-cross doublet today, not the pure white. The red matches the velvet in her skirt. She'll appreciate a gesture like that."

"Hmm. Yes. She does look really good in that skirt, doesn't she?"

Fujin rolled her eye. "Yes, but don't stare at her and miss your targets this afternoon. You've sworn to win for her, haven't you?"

"Aye!"

"Well then, win this thing so she can lose this bet. I would almost think that she _wants _you to win, that way she can yield to you without losing face. If she loses the bet to the noble Lord Almasy, I guarantee that you'll have her back in your tent and out of that costume in no time. But if she loses the bet to a fucking ill-mannered pig in armor, then you may still end up losing, sir."

"Why Fujin! You wound me almost as much as she!"

"AFFIRMATIVE!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Zell's horn thundered over the hum of the crowd gathered to watch the archery contest, the clarion notes ringing through the orange and red leaves, shaking a few onto the heads of eager spectators. It was a large group, but by no means as large as the crowd that would be gathered for the final joust the following day.

Multicolored banners flew in the cool breeze; silken ribbons whose tinted threads proclaimed loyalty to one champion were tied to branches, carried by supporters, and worn by blushing women and shouting men. The mood was festive, spirits were high, and the archers weaving through the crowd were drinking the ambiance as if it were the sweetest of wines. Irvine loved the tournament nearly as much as Seifer, confident that his emerald tights were the focal point of most of the female eyes in the faire. He was glad that Selphie was flattered by the attention that he received, knowing that most women would have slapped him for the roving eyes of other women. "Hee Hee! Look, Irvy! That old cow in the corner next to the pickle vendor; she's checking out your ass! Hoo Hoo!"

"Yeah, but check out the redheads at three o'clock. I think they've followed me all morning." Selphie followed the direction of his extended thumb, finding a set of ginger sisters sighing about the charming man decked in green. Selphie considered a compliment for her boyfriend a compliment for herself. Every time that a woman (or a man, for that matter) lusted after her Irvy, she just figured that their admiration was another notch on her magic wand. It was hard to be jealous when your fellow was so handsome that he attracted half the population of Balamb. "Yep! I have the best-looking boyfriend in the faire!"

"You certainly do, darlin', and I am blessed to have the world's hottest demonic wood fairy on my arm." He gave her a quick peck before she disappeared into the stands to take a seat with her friends.

"You two aren't conceited at all, are you?" Squall chuckled at the scene he just witnessed, amazed at the easy affable way the pair breezed through a situation that would bring any other couple to a fistfight. "At least you guys aren't afflicted with that terrible disease known as _Ye Olde False Modesty."_

"Conceited? Us? Hell no. We're just confident, that's all."

"Confident? Well, I hope your confidence lasts, because you'll need every ounce of it once I knock you out of this tournament."

"Well, good luck with that, my lord. 'Cause these eyes never miss their target." Irvine waved to Selphie, who had found Rinoa, Xu, and Quistis, and was now screaming an old fairy war cry from the stands.

"You're not going to start with that loneliness of a sharpshooter bullshit again, are you?" Squall checked his arrows, felt the shafts for any cracks, any imperfections that might alter their flight. The light breeze in the trees already had him concerned. He had enough trouble with archery even on the calmest of days and now that the wind was picking up, he feared that he might have to settle for second to Irvine. "Once Almasy gets here, I don't know how much bullshit I can take without driving one of these arrows into his head."

"Oh, ease up, Squall. Can't you just ignore him?"

Squall almost chuckled. "You're beginning to sound like Quistis back when she still taught us. 'Just ignore him, he'll get tired of teasing you eventually.' Blah, blah, blah."

"Speaking of Quistis and Seifer, Selphie told me that he's taken quite the fancy to the little lady."

"Oh, I can imagine that. He torments her for years and then all of a sudden, he discovers that she has a nice body under that SeeD uniform and he's head over heels? Come on, Irvine. I hope to hell that Quistis is as smart as I think she is and doesn't fall for some smooth talking knight just because he slides her a few lines."

"Hey now! What's wrong with a few lines? They've always worked for me!"

"But they didn't work with Quistis, did they?"

"True." Irvine heard a mixture of boos and cheers and saw a white banner and a flaming red cross. "But here comes Laughing Boy now. You want to be the one to tell him to back off of her? 'Cause I'm not going to get in the middle of it. I don't think we need to be worried about Quistis Trepe handling herself."

"Handling herself isn't the problem. I'm more concerned with her handling Almasy."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh, look Lady Q! There he is! Ooh! And he sees us! Huzzah, Lord Almasy!" Selphie lifted her flagon of mead, throwing suds and bubbles over the heads of the people below. Seifer lifted his bow in acknowledgement, glad to see that his lady fair was attending the contest, even if it was with her strange group of friends.

"I see him, Selphie. And don't encourage him." Quistis struggled with her hair. The wind was picking up, blowing the silky strands into her face and around her head in a strange sort of blonde halo. She would have killed for her trusty clip, but that had been left behind in Selphie's tent, at the sprite's incredibly shrill insistence.

"Well then, don't just sit there. Wave at him! Halloooooo, brave sir! Halllooooooo..ooomph! Hey! Why'd you slap me this time? I'm just trying to give your man a little support, since you want to be all mean and bitchy. Fucking prithee." Selphie sat down in a huff, angry that Quistis still refused to jump from her seat and cheer for that looker of a knight. "Well fine, be that way. But see if I ever try to get you laid again, Miss I'm-too-good-to-give-anyone-the-time-of-day Trepe."

"I never said I was too good for anyone, Selphie."

"Yeah? Well, you sure as hell act like it sometimes. You walk around with your nose in the air, acting like a fucking queen half the time. It's no wonder you're still single!"

Quistis was stunned. She looked to Rinoa for support, hurt that her friend thought so poorly of her. "I don't act like that, do I, Rinoa?" Rinoa bit her lip. "Umm…well, you do sort of act like you have really, umm, high standards, Quisty. Not that that's a bad thing, it just makes people think that you're kind of stuck-up."

"_What?"_

"Oh, don't worry about them, Q. If we were half as good-looking as you, we'd act stuck-up too!" Quistis buried her head in her hands. Xu meant well, but she succeeded in making the poor girl feel worse than Selphie and Rinoa combined. She looked at her friends, all absorbed in the contest below. So, the entire planet thought she was a conceited snob. She spoke to them, hurt again when they ignored her. "I, uh, think I'm going to go get some coffee."

"Oh, no need to get up, sweetie. I have some right here." Quistis found a mug shoved in her hands by a grinning, gummy woman that could have used an appointment with Selphie's wrinkle-smith. "Umm, thanks, but I don't want to take your…"

"Oh, I have plenty! Don't you fret your pretty little head about that!"

"Umm, okay? Thanks?" Quistis didn't quite know what to make of the old woman cackling and wheezing beside her. When she sat down, Quistis had been at the end of the row; surely she would have noticed an elderly lady taking a seat next to her. wouldn't she?

The hag grabbed Quistis' chin and looked intently at her confused face. "My, my, my…your feller sure can pick 'em. You certainly have some very blue eyes, Missy. Nice hair, too."

"It's umm, Quistis, not Missy. Nice to meet you, Mrs…" Quistis jumped when laughter gurgled from the old woman's throat, a deep rumble that sounded like it had laughed at many things for many, many years. This was a laugh with experience, a laugh that knew how silly a place the world could be. "Oh, Miss Quistis, there's no need to go learning my name. But, it was nice of you to ask me, dearie. No, I wouldn't worry about it, dear."

Quistis raised an eyebrow at this odd statement. "I'm afraid I don't understand, ma'am. Worry about what?"

"Oh, I knew you'd have better manners than your feller. At least he appreciates tea more than you…I'll give him that much. Don't understand that coffee drinkin' myself. Why drink it when you can have a nice spot of tea?" The hand on her face disappeared and the woman was now on the other side of Quistis, tying her disobedient hair up with a white ribbon. How did she move that fucking fast? "No, I wouldn't worry about it at all. Rulers make bad lovers, after all. I'd tell you to put your kingdom up for sale, but you've never had a real kingdom, have you, Missy?"

"I am so confused right now, ma'am."

The crone eyed her handiwork, pleased that the shining pearl threads of the white satin did such a beautiful job of holding the girl's flaxen hair. "There. You look lovely, child. And don't worry about your friends and their opinions of you. None of them have had their hearts broken by a man before, so they don't understand why you haven't climbed on top of that lad that wants you so bad." Quistis blushed, both at painful memories and the thought that this old woman somehow knew all about Seifer. Her strange witch eyes seemed to burn straight through Quistis, a weird amethyst light that could read every secret she held. "How do you know about…"

"Oh, stop asking so many questions. And give me that cup." She jerked the empty mug from Quistis. Had she drank any of the coffee yet? The cup was full just a second ago, wasn't it? "Now, pay attention to me. The first volley is over, four archers have been eliminated, and your lad has advanced. There's going to be a break, since the wind is so bad. I have a strange feeling that his hands are cold and he'll be wanting a hot cup o' tea." Quistis privately wondered if this woman might be mad, but it would be rude to ask her if she had escaped from a mental hospital. "Now, keep listenin'! I need for you to go down and get yourself a cup of coffee from that vendor right over…" Craning her neck, the old hag picked a red hat from the throng of merchants. "…there! And when you get down there, make sure that your knight sees the way I've done your hair. He'll love it." She smiled at Quistis, all gums and ancient teeth, wrinkled lines and electric purple glow. "Now get going. The wind is picking up."

Quistis wanted to ask the old woman one more time for her name, but she was gone.

"What'd you say, Q?" Xu leaned to her without taking her eyes from the competition. "Something about coffee?"

"Yeah, there's a change in the wind and I could use a cup. Do you want one?" She didn't understand the strange situation, but all of a sudden she felt this desire to talk with Seifer about it. For whatever reason, she felt that he alone would listen to her without asking if she was crazy.


	6. Chapter 6

"LORDS AND LADIES! THE FIRST VOLLEY HATH BEEN LOOSED AND THE FIRST COMPETITORS ELIMINATED! HUZZAH!"

Cheers erupted from many throats. The champions that brought the crowds, Leonhart, Almasy, and Kinneas, were still near perfection, hitting their marks with an accuracy that would make even the great hooded rogue from the tales of olde respect their skill. Even when the targets were moved back so far as to make the judges squint, the arrows still found their way deep into the cork, thudding home with many a quivering thunk.

A few disappointed spectators booed when Zell announced that Lords Nida of Balamb and Watts of Timber were among those eliminated in the first round. Their disappointment soon turned to elation, however, when a handful of generous Kinneas fans bought the losers a round of drinks. Orange and yellow ribbons were exchanged for green and Lord Kinneas found himself the new idol for a group of displaced archery supporters.

The wind, previously a slight breeze that teased dry leaves from the trees and kissed the cheeks of patrons with her cool lips, was now a strong gust that threatened to tear the banners from the pavilions and blow hats and ribbons from the costumed actors. Spectators had to guard their brews from the thirsty wind, cupping their hands over the suds so none would be lost to the swirling currents.

Zell, now master of ceremonies in addition to his capering duties, took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air. There had to be a change in plans to accommodate the whims of Pandemona, who seemed to hate archery with a windy passion.

THE COMPETITION WILL RESUME AT THE HOUR OF FOUR!

Announcement completed, Zell gasped for air. They served soft drinks and fries in some of the tents, so why the hell couldn't they let him use a microphone to announce this bullshit? It's not as if the faire was even historically accurate, anyway. And once the patrons were drunk enough, they didn't even care about the history or the competitions. They just wanted to see a little bloodshed. And if the wind kept blowing like this, the archery would have to be postponed, before blood was shed by an errant arrow in somebody's ass.

----------------------------------------

"Squall! Take it easy! You're still ahead." Irvine sat on an oaken barrel, pipe to his lips, relishing the cool breeze. Unlike Squall, who was stomping a ditch in the mud behind the stables, Irvine was enjoying the break in the competition. It gave him a chance to sample the new strain of _Crimson Cosmo Canyon _he had obtained from the lute player. Irvine envied the permanent faire players. He envied their freedom, their wandering spirit...their ability to get exotic strains of Chocobo greens. Coughing when he inhaled too deeply, he grinned at the impatient black knight. Squall was getting funnier with every hit of the pipe. He giggled, thinking that Squall was just like the villain from that movie with the spaceships, from his black tunic to his angry, raspy breathing. "Heh, you know you look just like Darth Va..." Squall stopped pacing and fixed Irvine with a death glare. "...umm, I mean...just calm down man! Relax!"

"I can't calm down! He is dead even with me right now, and you're only ahead by a few points! I figured that this would be the event that would knock him out of the tourney!"

"But, you beat him in the joust the other day, so you're still ahead overall, right?"

"Yes, but not by much. If he manages to squeak by this afternoon, then we'll be tied for events won." Squall kicked at a clump of mud, furious that Almasy was actually _good _at archery. He fully counted on Irvine winning today's event, then jousting against the cowboy tomorrow. Irvine was a literal pushover at jousting. Rubbing a sore spot under his arm, Squall feared that he might have to face Seifer in the tilt again. He knew that he had been lucky a couple of days ago. If the huge white horse hadn't thrown that shoe, it might have been him knocked into the clay instead of Almasy. And what made it even worse was the fact that Irvine was laughing about it! He acted as if this tournament was a mere game! "Where the hell did he learn how to shoot like that? Irvine? Are you listening?"

Irvine sat on the barrel, face lifted to the heavens, watching the sparse clouds roll overhead. "Did you ever notice how blue the sky is, Squall? Do you...do you think there are like, galaxies far, far away up there?"

The Black Knight groaned. Of all the days that Irvine could take a toke on his magic pipe, he had to pick this day. "Kinneas! Are you high again? Seifer will kick our asses for sure now!"

"What? No, man! I'm just mellow! And don't worry about him, because this stuff makes me concentrate even harder."

Squall pulled his hair in frustration. Great, just great. Seifer had the shooting instincts of one of the merry men, and now Irvine was stoned. And the wind was getting stronger. "Damn it, Irv. You had better be straight once the clock strikes four, or else I'm kicking you all the way back to Sherwood Forest."

"Hey now! I told you! It won't be a problem!" Irvine stuck his pipe back in his pouch and adjusted his tights. They really _were _very comfortable, even if it meant that he was being stalked by half the faire. He chuckled when he thought that he might soon have as many fans as Quistis. She had her Trepies, so he figured that he could have a whole army of Kinneasies...no, that wouldn't work. Maybe...Irvies! Yeah! That would work...oh, wait. The Knight was jabbering again. Why couldn't he just fucking relax?

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! Ease up man. I think you must have gotten a secondary buzz off this stuff. You're acting all paranoid. Now come on. We still have about an hour to wait, so let's grab some grub."

---------------------------------------------------

"I said, I want a cup of tea!"

"What?"

"Tea!"

"Fleas? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Forget it!"

Seifer pushed through the crowd, furious at the weather and the idiots it had blown in with it. The sky was still that wonderful shade of deep blue, but the chill wind blowing from the north made it nearly impossible to communicate. All he wanted was some hot tea to warm his hands, but the jackass with that ludicrous red cap couldn't seem to understand that the only reason people visited the only tea merchant in the faire was to buy some goddamned tea! Blowing his hands and leaning into the wind, Seifer finally found a sheltered spot between two tents, blissfully void of human life. It was still cold, but at least the wind wasn't as strong here. He still wanted his tea, though. Damn that moronic tea seller. "Lord, what fools these mortals be...especially dumbasses that don't even listen to their customers! Fucking idiot."

Pacing and muttering, Seifer rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them so he could continue the contest. Stupid wind. Until the competition was postponed, Seifer was enjoying himself. His accuracy amazed everyone, including Puberty Boy and Panty Hose Cowboy. The memory of Squall and Irvine nervously glancing at him when each of his arrows hit the center of the target made him laugh out loud. The surprised expressions on their faces were well worth the price of returning to the campsite that night and cleaning up broken glass. Were it not for the ultimate prize if he won the tournament, Seifer would have considered the shocked expressions on their faces victory enough.

The wind howled and moaned, bending the tall trees and throwing clouds of dust and debris over the faire. He struggled with a long piece of fabric that was blown into his face, covering his eyes and nose. Angry at the foul weather, he tore the slick cloth from his eyes, ready to toss it to the ground. Another fucking ribbon? What the hell was wrong with those crazy bitches? Didn't they realize that he had no interest in any of them? Seifer rolled his eyes when he heard a low feminine voice following the wayward streamer as it escaped her hair. "Oh no! I'm so sorry! This wind is absolutely terrible. Thank you for catching my..." If one more of those stupid groupie wenches tossed another fucking favor at him, he knew that he'd…um, stare like a love-struck fool. "Milady?"

Quistis, hair unbound and whipping around her face, came to a dead stop when she found her ribbon in the hands of the frozen knight. Once again, Seifer found himself wondering if perhaps an astral queen had descended from the stars to laugh at his torment. Was she wearing the white in her hair just to tease him? Probably. She could be such a bitch, but damn her, she made bitchiness look so fucking good. She was clear sapphire and marble ice, cold sunfire and moonlit shadows. And she was driving him absolutely fucking mad.

_Well, well, well. Look over there, darling. That cross on his tunic is the EXACT same shade as your costume. Looks like he noticed more than just your bouncy attributes. I daresay he's trying to impress you._

_I see it. And yes, before you get going, it is the same shade of red. And he does..._

_What? He looks amazing, doesn't he? Admit it, darling._

_Well, I suppose that it does flatter him._

_So, why are you just staring at him? Shouldn't you walk over and put your hands around...that ribbon? _

_Don't start this again. _

_Come now, dearest. If I don't pester the hell out of you, we both know that you won't go over there. Oh look! You did realize that the crazy old hag tied a WHITE ribbon in your hair, didn't you?_

_No, I hadn't noticed._

_Well, HE certainly noticed that it's white. I do believe he's smiling. And it's not that cocky smirk of his, either. _

_Don't give me that. Everything about him is cocky._

_And how would YOU know? _

_I did sleep with him, remember?_

_Yes, and that's the problem. Sleeping was the only thing you did. If you had listened to me, we'd still be asleep NOW, exhausted after quite a fun workout._

_That didn't keep me from noticing his..._

_Yes? Do go on. Elaborate for me. _

_Oh, shut the hell up._

_Only if you go talk to him. _

_I'd rather not. _

_Your hair will be a mess again if you don't retrieve that ribbon. Remember how long it took Selphie and Xu to get those knots untangled? I'd almost wonder if that mad wrinkled bitch could control the weather. Look at him. He must have a thing for blondes. He's staring at your hair instead of your tits, love. I believe he's the only male at this whole faire that has actually acted like a gentleman when it comes to those beasts on your chest. She did say that he would like what she had done with your hair, after all._

_Yes, but she just tied it up for me. She didn't..._

_Hmm. Oh yes, I suppose you're right again. She didn't tie it so loose that the wind, which popped up out of NOWHERE, by the way, could blow your ribbon all the way from the stands to THIS spot, where a certain fellow just HAPPENED to be standing. Oh no. That would just be serendipitous, right? You fucking idiot, if you don't go over there this very instant, I swear I will drive you absolutely mad, darling. It'll be nothing but, 'Out, damn'd spot! Out I say!' for the rest of your days. Trust me. That crazy chick in that play will seem positively sane compared to what you'll be when I get finished._

_Ooh! Fine! I'll go talk to him._

_Good. And play nice, won't you? He is rather fond of you, you know. _

Still stinging from the remarks made by her friends (and her incredibly bothersome id), Quistis thought that she should _maybe_ start acting a bit friendlier with people, perhaps starting with her smitten adversary. He had yet to insult her, so maybe it wouldn't be _impossible, _just very difficult. Taking a deep breath, she quickly closed the distance between them, reaching for the ribbon and sliding it out of Seifer's fingers. She looked up with a ready-made smile, but felt it fall from her face when she realized how close her footsteps had carried her."My thanks, kind sir. T'would seem that the cavorting zephyrs meant to blind m'lord with the ribbon that held my hair."

Green eyes widened in surprise, both at her proximity and her friendly words. "Milady, would that those same unfeeling zephyrs had been so merciful." Seifer wished that they _had_ stolen his vision. Seeing nothing at all would be preferable to seeing his cruel goddess looking at him the way she was right now. He meant to say more; he _wanted _to say more, but the wind chose that time to blow again, tossing strands of her blonde hair towards his face. Seifer closed his eyes, basking in the warm gossamer sunlight flitting across his cheeks. "Perhaps then they would have truly blinded me, saving mine eyes from your siren charms."

"Oh?" She was wrong about his affections, it seemed. Quistis felt like crawling into a hole, disappointed by his reaction to her appearance. _God, he must really be pissed off if he can't even stand to look at me. I'd be better off back in Xu's tent, playing solitaire with the mad bitch inside my brain. _When the crone finished with her, Quistis had felt the strangest desire to find Seifer. She felt oddly _certain _that he wanted to speak with her, but what she planned to do when she found him was still a mystery. Not that it had mattered at the time. The only thing that mattered was finding him, and now, standing inches from her knight, Quistis wanted to run. She fidgeted with the ribbon, winding it in and out of her fingers, afraid to look at him and see nothing but revulsion. She had enough denial and loneliness for a lifetime. "And... is the knight so loathe to look upon his lady?"

Seifer held his breath, afraid to move, lest he disturb the lovely woman standing before him. Her head lifted when he next spoke, guarded blue eyes searching wicked jade for a hint of ridicule, the sharp teasing bite of refusal. "Never, Lady. I loathe thee not." The White Knight reached again for her ribbon, the movement pulling her even closer to him, both holding tightly to the shimmering fabric. Drawing her hand to his mouth, he kissed the ribbon wound around her fingers. "Tis fear of a broken heart that forces this humble knight to seek solace from thine ethereal beauty."

"Seifer, don't do this."

"Do what, Milady?" The ribbon was gone from her grasp, now draped across his forearm. First one, then the next, his mouth waltzed across her fingers, lips dancing to the ancient music that pulsed in her wrist.

"Th...the quotes and the…" Quistis was lost. Arrogance and pride and hateful vanity melted from the man kissing her hand, leaving behind nothing but Seifer.

"And do the quotes offend Milady?" Seifer wrapped one arm around her slim waist, allowing the other to explore the singular arch of her thumb, the musculature that moved under her scented skin.

"No, it's not that."

"That's good then, 'cause the last bit wasn't a quote." The hand on her waist moved higher, stopping only when he reached the warmth of her neck under that fantastically wind-blown hair.

"Please stop."

"Mmm. Stop what, Milady?" Mouth in palm, murmuring against her skin, Seifer continued courting his fair lady. He smiled against her when he felt her fingers caress his bruised cheekbone; long, slim fingers a balm to his injured face.

"Stop kissing my hand, Seifer. _Please, _stop kissing my hand." Quistis felt her left arm snake around his shoulders when he gently bit into the flesh of her fingertips.

"As you wish, Milady." He dropped her hand and crushed her to his chest, seizing her mouth with his own, chivalry forgotten. He was warmth and sun and fire, a sinful flame over her throat, white-hot tongue searing a scorching path across her shoulders. Quistis couldn't hear the voices in her head over the sudden rush of heated silence. Even the vicious wind seemed to die down, giving them just a moment to...

"Sir! There you are! We've torn this faire apart looking for you, ya know!" Raijin and Fujin bounded into the alley, bringing with them the previously hushed din of the faire; shouting crowds, the ringing clash of weapons, and the blaring trumpets that signaled the start of the second portion of the archery contest. "We gotta go, ya know. If you're not there, then you automatically forfeit, ya...oh." Fujiin slapped Raijin in the back of the head when she saw the tightly locked couple. "DUMBFUCK." Pinching his ear, she dragged him out of the alley, certain that they had just ruined Seifer's afternoon.

Quistis pulled away from Seifer, breathless, lips bruised, completely shocked that she had just... "I..I'm sorry. I have to go." Clutching her skirts, she tore out of the alley, trying desperately to ignore her screaming inner voice. Seifer stalked out right behind her, but lost sight of her in the crowd.

"Fucking morons." Shoving his way through the rude throng, throwing elbows into actors and spectators alike, he tried to find his lady, but she was gone. Seething and cursing, he stomped back to his bow, furious that he had to send his arrow towards a dead heart of cork instead of the beating warmth of his lady love. Damn the faire, damn the time, damn the wind, and damn her. Everything was so much easier before she decided to grace the festival with her presence.

-----------------------------------

Note: Used two more Shakespeare lines. Trust me, if you go to a Renfaire, you will bloody damn _drown_ in Shakespeare. And cheap wine. If you didn't believe me the first time, believe me now when I say I love these fucking things. So, I've used lines from _Macbeth _and _A Midsummer Night's Dream. _And Cosmo Canyon is straight outta FFVII. Plus, back in my misbehaving, sweet Mary Jane days, I had a pipe named Cosmo Sally. Ah, memories...

Also, since Tequila Princess was so very, very disappointed in Quistis in _Cards and Questions, _I tried to make the smooching scene here a little bit less...well, bitchy. Also, a big, huge, huggy thanks to altol (who has written THE single greatest Seifer/Quistis tale that exists. _Fire and Ice, _at least to me, is the be-all, end-all of all S and Q fiction.), cerespallas, champylin, chickabo, Einskameit, Melete, Ms Starlight, Nikpt-o, Wonder Woman herself...The Lady Isis, and those other delightful people that have left such wonderful, encouraging comments on my stories. These are a HELL of a lot more fun when people are so nice.


	7. Chapter 7

"Irvine. Irvine! Do you not hear the trumpets?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I hear 'em. I wish they'd quit. I can barely hear that pretty twinkly music from that tree over there." Irvine used his turkey leg as a pointer, gesturing towards a tree with low hanging branches.

"Twinkly music...? Kinneas, just how high are you?"

"Can't you hear it?" Irvine watched the Black Knight pace and stomp. He noticed that Squall had a peculiar hair-flicking habit when he was losing patience with the world. The way he would toss his dark hair from his face made Irvine think of the girls in shampoo commercials...and Squall joked about _him _being vain? Honestly! "Humph, no, I guess you can't. It's the music of the gods, man! Music of the _gods_!"

"I don't hear anything but the trumpets. We need to go!"

"Aw come on, Squall! Let's stay and listen! How often do you get to hear music like this?"

"I told you, it's time to go! Those trumpets mean..."

"And besides, you need to taste this. I don't know how they cook these bitches, but these turkey legs…Goddamnit man, they kick ass. Do you think that they really ate nothing but turkey legs back in the day? I know they didn't have the four food groups or the dietary pyramid, but surely they ate more than just turkey."

Irvine regarded his half-eaten poultry limb. Bloodshot eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. "Hey Squall! Do you think if there was like a GIANT turkey and it got in a fight with a chocobo, do you think it might win? I think it could, but it would have to be a really BIG turkey." Squall pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered about starting a drug screening program at Garden. Irvine didn't notice. He was in his own happy world where food tasted better, colors were brighter, and absolutely fucking _genius _ideas were hitting his brain with an amazing frequency.

"And yuck! My hands are pretty damn greasy now. Do you think they used napkins back in ye olden times? Or do you think that they just had some harem girls to lick their hands clean? Wait...would they have been harem girls or would they have been called strumpets? Hmm...and don't strumpets get paid? I think harem girls are kind of permanent, like furniture, just furniture that you can fuck. 'Cause, you know, that would be pretty damn sweet and _speaking_ of sweet, this wine is fucking _awesome_."

"Irvine, _let's go_! That's your fifth leg! And those trumpets mean that it's four o'clock. If we're not there, then we forfeit!"

Irvine sighed. How could he be expected to truly enjoy the sights and sounds, the smells and fucking awesome tastes of the faire if Squall wanted to do _nothing _but compete? He admitted that there was a certain beauty to competition, but damn it, there was a hell of a lot more to life than just winning some stupid archery contest! And _of course _Squall could only hear the trumpets. Subtlety was never the Black Knight's forte, so the soft sounds of the hidden harp would be lost on him. Irvine sighed again. Squall was missing out on the whole faire experience by losing himself to the thrill of competition.

Hidden by a screen of brown and gold leaves, a harpist watched the exchange between the two as she played her music. Her strong fingers plucked a pleasant melody for the enjoyment of the patrons below, but only a few people seemed to notice the delicate sounds of her instrument. Irvine tried to ignore Squall for one more minute, listening to the final notes of her song as they were lost on the cold breeze. The song ended and Irvine quickly finished his food so Squall would stop tapping his booted foot. He tipped his hat as they passed below the unseen harpist, a master of one art paying tribute to the mistress of another. She smiled, then began a new song. At least _somebody_ appreciated her talents.

"So, when you beat Seifer today…"

"_If _I beat Seifer. He is really good at this stuff."

"Don't start this again, Irvine. You have to beat him. I don't know if I can…"

Irvine shushed the Black Knight as a scarlet and gold blur flew by the archers. "Was that Quistis?" It had to be. There was nobody else at the faire that could jiggle like that with every step. He watched the figure flee the crowds and head to the camping area, obviously eager to be away from any questioning eyes. Hmm…

"What? I'm not sure, but that is definitely Seifer right behind her."

Irvine scanned the crowd, which was extremely easy considering that the _Thirteen Dwarven Treasure Hunters with One Professional Burglar _and the _Melodic Midgets from Midgar _were the only people around him at the time. Over a sea of pointy hats and thick beards, he glimpsed the White Knight, who was clearly in search of...someone. Hmm…

"What the hell is he looking for? Doesn't he know that it's four o'clock? Surely he remembers that we are still in this tournament."

Irvine tapped his gloved finger against his lip as he watched Seifer's head turn left and right, looking for a _very particular _someone. He dragged Squall closer, kicking dwarves and weird little guys with _very _hairy feet out of their way. "Forget him, Irv. Let's just get back to the…OW! Why'd you pinch me?"

"Can you be quiet for one damn minute? I'd swear that you got a contact high from those greens, because I've never heard you talk this much before in my life!" Irvine pulled Squall behind a convenient tree and together they carefully spied on Seifer. The White Knight was muttering and cursing, livid about something, glaring at the odd dwarf unwise enough to get close to him. Squall chuckled. "This is fantastic! Look at him! He's shaking! If he keeps twitching like that, then he'll never be able to send an arrow to the center of the target." Irvine said nothing, noticing that Seifer held a white ribbon in his hands, idly stroking the fabric as if it could summon the very person that he was so keen to find. Hmm...

Squall tugged on Irvine's sleeve, eager to leave the furious Seifer behind and focus on the contest. "Let's go, Irv. He's not the only archer left, you know. Besides, Selphie will expect you to wave at her before you pick up your bow and Rinoa will be hurt if I don't do the same. We need to hurry, or we won't have time to greet our noble ladies before we start."

Irvine nodded, smiling when he saw Seifer kiss the ribbon and tuck it into his sleeve. Yes, the competition was looking for a very particular someone indeed. Interesting. "Yeah, I reckon you're right. Can't keep the ladies waiting, now can we?"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Quistis sat on Xu's cot, chugging away at a bottle of _Mimett Merlot _and cursing herself for being a fool_. _Humiliation at being discovered by Seifer's posse was evaporating in the heat of a lust that would make Ifrit consider calling the fire brigades. She hoped to drown herself…umm, her _inner _self with wine, but it seemed that the horny bitch was able to swim. And the more she drank, the mouthier she became. Quistis laughed at the thought that _she_ was a paradigm of good behavior and decorum, while her inner self was the crazy chick at a party that drank too much and fucked the football team on the pool table.

_Well, darling. You may as well tear that costume off and switch with Zell. You'll look terrible in his clothes, though, because your legs are a hell of a lot longer than that short fucker's. You need to dress the part now that you are the single biggest fool in this whole fucking faire! I can't believe you! Seifer had his tongue down your throat and his hands were EVERYWHERE. And you let an audience stop you! If it had been ME, I would have told them to make some popcorn, kick back and enjoy the show._

_Shut up, you bloody damned exhibitionist._

_Hell no, darling. I told you that I would make you suffer if you continued to ignore me and now I…_

_Damn you, don't you think I'm suffering a bit myself? I feel like I am on fire right now! _

_Are you now? Welcome to my world, because I feel like that ALL THE FUCKIN' TIME! Oh boo-fucking-hoo! But there is a way to end your suffering, dear. Run back to that man, take his sword in your hands, and impale yourself on his blade. _

_I'm hardly suicidal just because I didn't get laid. _

_Oh, I wasn't talking about THAT sword. Don't be facetious, dear. You know EXACTLY what I meant. And you better hurry, before he finds someone else to fuck. If you won't let him breach your defenses, then I'm sure that he will find another, easier land to conquer. He does have a lot of female fans throwing their laurels in his face; all perfectly willing ports for a big wooden ship and two man crew. You wouldn't want him to sink his anchor in some whore's murky waters, would you? Not when he can take a dip in a pristine lagoon?_

_Stop it. He wouldn't do that._

_Oh really? And why not?_

_I-I don't know. He just wouldn't. Would he? He was so different today, almost…_

_Well, keep denying him and see where he sets his rudder. You'll see nothing but his mast sailing off into a completely different sunset, dear._

_Wait. What's with all of the nautical innuendo? He's a knight, not a pirate! _

_Eh, I've used the sword thing so much that I thought I'd try something new. Anyway…he's not just a knight, he's YOUR knight. And you're his lady. But you're right. He was much different today, wasn't he? Who knew that he could be so damned charming, eh? _

_Well, yes. He was rather…_

_And who knew that he could be so damned chivalrous?_

_I-I guess so, but there was nothing…_

_Ooh! Say no more, because I know exactly what you're thinking! There was NOTHING chivalrous about that kiss, eh? _

_No, it was…_

Quistis chuckled, finally in drunken agreement with her libidinous id. She tipped the bottle up and finished what remained of the sweet liquid, knowing herself better than she realized. Without a push, be it from her friends or a friendly bottle, Quistis Trepe simply didn't pursue her desires. And right now, all she desired was the fellow brave enough to face her rather infamous temper.

_Well, go on! It was enough to make you want to stop being a lady for a bit, wasn't it?_

_Oh ho! Trust me, there was NOTHING ladylike going through my mind just a little while ago…_

_Good girl. Turn around and head back towards the archery contest. See if he'll let you guide the flight of his shaft, won't you? I daresay you'll be begging for more once his arrowhead hits your bulls-eye a few times. _

_God, where the hell do you come up with these things? Do you spend ALL of your time comparing perfectly innocent objects to various anatomical bits?_

_Oh, I have nothing else to do…seriously. Now get going so I can find another way to occupy my time, or I'll get really creative, darling. _

_----------------------------------------------------_

"Move the targets back another ten paces!"

_Brddrrrrdrrrrr--DUM! _Zell beat his drum as the targets were moved again.

_Thunk! _Two more archers eliminated. Leonhart, Kinneas, and Almasy remained.

"And another ten paces!"

_Brddrrrrdrrrr--DUM! _

_Th-thunk! _

_Brdddddd..._

Zell dropped his drum in disbelief. The Black Knight missed! "Lords and Ladies! Another competitor hath been eliminated! And that leaves us with only two more brave champions! Alas, our own hero, the great, the valiant, the true...the Black Knight himself, hath loosed his final arrow and OW! Quit it! It's not my damn fault he missed!" Picking up his drum and using it as a shield, Zell ducked and dodged the missiles launched by irate archery fans.

Somehow an angry group of Leonhart supporters managed to hijack the catapult used for historical demonstrations and send a watermelon into the stands. This aerial assault was followed by a wave of raven-clad warriors wielding their souvenir swords and battle axes into the crowd. A handful of sticky Almasy fans, their white clothes now spattered with pink pulp and black seeds, started throwing punches and screaming obscenties. Some Kinneas faithful joined the fray and soon half the audience was bloody and bruised. Security arrived, but they were turned back by the sheer magnitude of the battle. Reinforcements were called, but even then it took nearly an hour to get the crowd back under control.

Squall stood in stunned silence. It was almost impossible to hit the targets from such a distance, but even so, his arrow _barely _missed the bulls eye. Furious, he broke an arrow over his knee and stomped back to his gear. Gathering his bow and bag, he looked to Seifer, fully expecting to be met with a cocky sneer. He was surprised to see Almasy ignoring him, his green eyes scanning the stands.

But at least Irvine seemed to be right about the chocobo greens and their effects on concentration. His accuracy, which amazed Squall anyway, was absolutely freakish after that smoke break. He allowed himself a smug grin, confident that it would be Irvine that he faced in the final joust.

Before walking away from the competition, Squall clapped Irvine on the arm. "Great job, Irv. Keep this up and you'll win for sure. It'll be the Black Knight versus the Ranger in one hell of a joust tomorrow, eh?" Irvine gave Squall a broad smile and returned his attention to his bow. "Yeah, thanks Squall. Now you better get your ass in the stands to cheer for me!" He watched Squall disappear into the crowd before turning to consider the tall knight beside him. Yep, he was still looking for someone. He grinned and slid closer to Seifer, who didn't seem to notice that a tall Galbadian was standing right next to him.

"Hey, Almasy. Selphie told me that she talked to Quistis earlier today. It seems that the two of you have a bet going. What exactly was the wager?" Seifer ignored him, instead focusing on his bow. Irvine carefully picked his next arrow. Running his fingers over the dyed green feathers, he tried once more to get the attention of the knight. "Ooh, Seifer, you're about to drop that ribbon in the mud. Better be careful, man."

"What?" Seifer clutched at his arm, afraid to drop that precious reminder of his lady. The ribbon was where he left it, safely tucked in his sleeve. He warily eyed the grinning green-clad ranger. Irvine's smile grew wider when he saw the concern in Seifer's face. "Ooh, I must've been wrong. Glad to see that you are so worried about it though."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Well, if you had just shrugged or something, I might've thought a bit less of you."

"What the hell?"

"Who gave it to you?"

"Who gave me what?"

Irvine licked his thumb and ran it on the edge of one feather, making the tiny barbs adhere a bit closer together. "See, the thing is, I keep getting loads of ribbons and favors from all of these chicks. I have so many that Selphie had to cram them in a sack. They're pretty much all the same to me, so I don't wear any favors while I'm competing. It wouldn't be fair to my favorite little fairy to wear a ribbon from another woman." He wiped his thumb on his sleeve and pointed to Seifer's arms. "I've not seen you wear one yet either. Zell's not even competing, but he keeps a pink ribbon on his arm because his little bookworm girlfriend gave it to him."

"And what the fuck does that have to do with me?"

Irvine pulled his bow, testing the draw. He watched as the targets were moved back another ten paces. "I do, however, make sure that I carry that bag with me when I get ready to compete. Do you see it?" He jerked his thumb towards his gear. Seifer saw a plain cloth bag lying next to Irvine's quiver. "Yeah? So, you carry all of 'em around so she won't get pissed if you wear just one?"

"Well, Selphie likes it that all of these women are so into me. She reckons it's flattering, so that's why she keeps all those ribbons. They don't mean a whole lot to me, but that bag over there does. So, since I can't really wear a big ol' bag around my neck, I just carry it with me."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

Irvine grinned again. "Not really. I'd pour every one of those ribbons in the mud and carry the bag in my pocket, but she likes to see me tote it around. It's...kind of like wearing a ribbon for her."

Seifer rolled his eyes. "You two have a really weird concept of monogamy, you know."

Irvine chuckled. "Give me that ribbon for a sec."

"How the hell do you know about my ribbon?"

"I just do. I've got a fairy for a girlfriend, remember? I reckon some of that pixie dust she's been sprinkling on me has given me magical powers."

Seifer pulled the ribbon from his sleeve. "I thought you had a whole bag of ribbons. Why the fuck do you want mine?" Irvine snatched it from his hand. "Hey! Give that back before you get an arrow up your ass, cowboy!"

"Easy, killer! I just want to look at it."

"Well, give it back before I turn this from a faire to the scene of ye olde homicide." Seifer lunged for the ribbon, but the wily Irvine dodged his hand.

"Hold your arm out, Seifer."

The knight looked at Irvine like he had just grown a second head. If it had been Squall, he would have laughed in his face and shoved him into the mud, but he was curious about the cowboy's motives. Irvine tied the ribbon around Seifer's upper arm then stepped back to his position by his gear. "There. Now your lady will be able to see that you have her favor on your arm."

Seifer did laugh at this. Turning back to his target, Seifer released his arrow, barely hitting the outside edge of the innermost circle. The targets were so far that it was nearly impossible to get a bulls eye. "Fuck!" Angry now, Seifer waited for Kinneas to hurry and eliminate him from the tournament. He knew that Irvine wouldn't miss. "That's great, cowboy. I don't think she's anywhere around. She took off and I can't fucking find her."

Irvine laughed this time. "Well, word will get around anyway. Don't worry about it. Squall has worn Rinoa's favor since this thing started, and people know about Selphie and me, so you are kind of the mystery man of the faire. Everybody wants to know, you see. It'll be a big deal when you wear that white ribbon tomorrow in the joust." Stepping to the line, Irvine pulled back and carefully judged the target.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

_Thunk! _Irvine's arrow hit the second innermost circle, just beyond the bulls eye. Bowing when the shocked crowd booed and hissed, Irvine winked at Seifer. "Well, hell's bell's. It looks like I missed. Gee, it must have been the wind."

Seifer dropped his bow, unable to even_ try_ to believe that Irvine Kinneas, master marksman and deadly sniper, missed his last shot. "How the fuck did...?"

A strange sort of smile passed over Irvine's face. "I just noticed a lady a little while ago that seemed like she might need to see her knight win the joust tomorrow. It's a funny thing how seeing a pretty blonde can make a man's mind wander, isn't it, Seifer?"

Seifer dodged a tomato that was thrown at his head. Then he dodged a potato, two carrots, a boot, a wine bottle and a dwarf. Deciding that the crowd might soon be after him with more than just produce and hobbits, Seifer decided to make a break for the relative safety of his tent. Glancing back one more time at the still-grinning cowboy, Seifer yelled over his shoulder, "Hey Kinneas!"

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you..." Shit! Another dwarf. Who throws a dwarf? Honestly! "...decide to dress like a ranger?"

"I like the tights!" Irvine yelled back at Seifer's rapidly diminishing form. "Why do you ask?"

Seifer laughed when another tossed dwarf hit a group of Leonhart's fans, knocking them down like medieval bowling pins. "I just wondered! You would have made a pretty decent knight, you know!" Seifer jumped over the moaning black-clad body of a bruised supporter and disappeared.

Ducking into the trees, Irvine wondered if he should try to find Quistis and let her know that Seifer had just miraculously won the archery contest. Hmm...no. He'd let her see the ribbon around Seifer's arm the next day. That would work out better for both of them.

But, then again...he also needed a smoking partner. Selphie would rather have her moonshine, Squall and Rinoa were wound too tight, and it made Zell too nervous. Irvine laughed. Yeah, he probably would have made a good knight, but then he wouldn't have nearly as many women checking out his ass. It was a tough job, being so damn pretty, but sacrifices had to be made...for the good of mankind, of course. Or would it be for the good of womankind? Tough question. And tough questions needed to be pondered in _certain_ states. Patting his pockets, Irvine extracted his pipe and a small bag. Now that he was knocked out of the competition, he might be able to actually enjoy the rest of the faire. Irvine felt pretty sure that Quistis would be appreciate the company. He had a couple of things he wanted to discuss with her, anyway.

And maybe she could help him figure out if a giant turkey would win against a chocobo. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep until he got the answer for that one. Quistis was always the smart one, after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Note: I hope everyone has seen either _Robin Hood: Men in Tights_ or _Austin Powers 2 _or _3._Try to imagine the illuminated-silhouette-behind-fabric when picturing the scene with Seifer and Fujin in the tent. Oh, and I hope everyone has been forced to read the _Canterbury Tales _at some point in life_, _specifically _the Miller's Tale._ I _would _recommend reading it, but then I would shoot myself. FRUSTRATING! Read the Cliff's Notes or a translated version. Damn, that is a WHOLE different kind of English.

(Huh, Beavis, you said 'hole')

Yeah, just read it. And you'll see why Butthead hijacked my computer just then. I think that Chaucer would be the only thing that Beavis and Butthead would have ever read in school, just because of a certain few tales...

Also, a HUGE thanks to Aurenare... who allowed me to use her idea about Quistis' hair in this chapter. She is also now one of my all-time favorite people for giving me permission to use this, and for working so very hard on her wonderful Quistis sketch. Thank you!!!!!

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Stars sleepily blinked as the heavens pulled the sunset orange blanket from their slumbering faces and forced them to start their shifts in the indigo sky-mines. Reluctantly, they started to shine through the branches onto the festival below, twinkling and sparkling under the watchful eye of their lunar overseer. Had they not been so busily occupied with their cosmic duties, they might have noticed the glittering sparks from a forge and the glittering of wings as a blacksmith and a fairy tried to outdrink one another.

And if the moon happened to take her silver eye from her starshine miners, she might have been jealous to see that the tipsy pair had a greater appreciation for _their_ moonshine than her own.

"Okay, okay, okay...so there was a knight, a nun, a miller, and a monk that were in this party too?"

"O' aye, lassie. 'Twas quite a motley bunch that went on that trrrrip." Toothless Pete began to drift back into the speech patterns of his homeland with every sip of liquid hell he had brought with him from Timber. Selphie often giggled when he did this, asking him if he was a big fan of marshmallow cereal and if he enjoyed making buckles for shoes. One evening, a furious Pete had chased Selphie out of his forge with a white-hot poker and a set of tongs, threatening to make her fairy wings a permanent part of her anatomy.

Oh, she loved Pete. He was so much fun. And she _really _loved his moonshine. It was fun too. Until it decided to come back up, and then it wasn't quite as much fun. Unless she puked through her nose. Then it was like getting drunk all over again! Yeah, that was fun. Oh wait...Pete was talking about some pilgrimage...wait, no, he was finished...time to respond...

"You're tellin' me! Holy hell! It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke." Selphie turned up Toothless Pete's flask and took another mighty swig of the burning moonshine. Sputtering and coughing, she passed the flask back to Pete with a mischievous glint in her pixie-green eyes. "Hee hee! I bet when that dude wrote it, he was thinking to himself... 'A knight, a nun, and a miller walk into a bar'... or even better, 'A miller, a landlord, and the landlord's wife walk into a barn and run into a parish clerk, so the miller _turns_ to the clerk and says..."

"But lass, 'tis far moor complicated than jest a wee storrrry!" Pete remembered his rendition of that particular verse and blushed. Sure, he was very, very, very drunk, but that didn't mean that he should have told _that _bawdy tale to such an umm, innocent young lady. "And I don't want to be knowin' where ye were plannin' in goin' with that! 'Tis bad enough that I be seein' thrrree of ye in all o' yer glittery glamour! Me own beloved mudder would tan me hide fer drinkin' with one of the wee folk!"

Pete looked at Selphie in sudden terror. His mother, God Rest her soul, was from the _old_ country and she had believed in the frightening supernatural powers of the little people. To avoid the wrath of the wee ones, she nightly left bowls of milk on the doorstep and carefully stepped around mushroom circles when she walked through the forests of Timber. Had she seen her dear, darlin' Pete sippin' illegal whiskey with a sprite, she would have turned the giant man on her knee and beat the sin right out of him. "Ye are jest _disguised _as one o' the fey, aren't ye? Ye'll not be takin' me down into yer fairy land to make me slave away in yer mushroom palaces, will ye?"

"Mushroom palaces? You're starting to sound like Irvy!" Winking at Pete, she tapped the anvil under her ass with her magic wand. "And besides, if I were a _real _fairy, I couldn't be around all this iron without bursting into flame or turning to stone or something fucking awesome like that." Or could she? Hmm. Better ask Quisty. She was always the one that knew about fairy tales.

Yes. Of course. She _couldn't _be a real fairy and touch iron. Whew! Pete was seconds away from running out of his forge to find the nearest dairy and a big empty bowl until Selphie said this. "O' aye! And wherrrre is yer strrrrappin' lad this evenin'?"

Selphie put her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hands. Sighing, she said, "He lost the tournament today and now he's gone to find Quisty, 'cause she's gone all bonkers today, so I got bored and came to see you."

Pete patted her on the shoulder, knocking more glitter to the floor of his forge. She was a good-hearted lass and he couldn't stand seeing her so depressed. "Ah lass, but that'll mean that he has morrre time to spend with ye! Now ye can enjoy the rest of the tourrrrnament without all of the prrrressurrrre." The pixie brightened, smiled, then leapt off the anvil and ran to the door. "Hey! You're right, Pete! You're the smartest blacksmith with a limp and a funny accent that I know!"

That same limping blacksmith froze when she turned back and he saw the demonic twist in her lips. "Hee hee! Maybe he can help us find your lucky charms! Hoo Hoo!"

Selphie had to use all of her pixie powers to avoid the hammer Pete threw at her head. It was a good thing she liked him so much, or she might have cast a magic spell on him.

Pete chuckled as he stuck another bit of slag into the forge. Yes, she was a good lass. A terrible fairy, but still...

---------------------------------------------------------------

_Cough_

_Cough_

_COUGH!!!_

Quistis giggled at Irvine, who was coughing deeply after inhaling too much smoke from his pipe. He passed it back to her, enormously happy to see that she also appreciated the fruits of hydroponic cultivation. Whatever the fuck that was. He didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but she seemed happy enough to babble about it. She had theories about Chocobo greens that he couldn't have thought up on his _best _days. The battle between a giant turkey and a chocobo didn't seem nearly as important when she started yapping about genetic variation and selective breeding.

When he had found her wandering through the maze of tents that evening, he noticed that she was acting a bit...distracted. Quistis was _never _distracted. She was quite possibly the most focused person he knew, except for maybe Seifer...and then again, perhaps too much focus on another focused person was the cause of her distraction. She really needed to just fucking relax.

"So you see, Irvine, experimentation and exploitation of particular traits in wild plants have led to these potent strains of C_hocobonis sativa _that you so enjoy. From what I recall of the studies done by Doctor Thomas Chong and his partner..." Quistis hit the pipe, smiling as she blew out a large smoke ring that lost it's way in the branches overhead. She watched it disappear, wondering if the smoke ring was in love with one of the stars twinkling above them. It seemed so very eager to escape her throat and climb to the heavens. Surely it had a celestial lover waiting on it's return...

Irvine was impressed by her smoke-blowing skills, but he was still worried about her. Even if she _was _high, Quistis Trepe _never _giggled. He loved looking at the sky too, but she seemed to be using it as an excuse to not look at him. Either that, or she was stoned out of her fucking gourd. "Who did a study, Quistis?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's not important..." Without taking her eyes from the sky, she handed the pipe back to the ranger. He watched the stars appear and disappear as branches and dry leaves obscured his view.

"Irvine?"

"Yeah?"

"How did...how did you do in the archery contest today?" She finally looked at him, blowing an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. She would have killed for her flat-iron, but she had left it in her dorm at Garden. With all of the wind...

_Plus your knight grabbing fistfuls of your hair and pulling it the way you like it and..._

_Shut up! I was there, remember?_

_Okay, darling. Just so you don't blame it all on the wind. _

...and yes, Seifer grabbing her hair, she figured that she would never be able to get it tamed again. She planned to spend the next week back at Garden ironing out all of the waves that appeared whenever she didn't keep strict control over her blonde locks. Fuck.

_Oh, stop worrying about it. If it was up to ME, you'd chuck that damned flat-iron and those horrible clips out of the window and just let your hair go. We...you look better this way._

_Shut up! It doesn't look professional at all and..._

_No, you shut up! You do realize that the way you always wear your hair screams 'I have a stick up my ass!'_

_It does not! Does it?_

_Oh, darling...we'll talk about this later. You better pay attention to the cowboy, er... ranger...whatever the hell he is if you want to find out how your knight fared at the competition. _

_I asked about HIS performance, not Seifer's._

_Keep telling yourself that, darling. You may eventually believe it. _

"Oh, you know me. I _never _miss my target." He grinned at her unspoken question, well aware that she wanted to ask about Seifer, until he looked over and saw her sad expression. Hmm. Maybe she wasn't as stoned as he thought.

"Oh."

"Oh, come on, Quistis. I know you weren't really worried about _my _performance today. You're wondering about somebody else." It was getting very dark, but he could tell that she was blushing. Quistis had a weird way of holding her breath when she was embarrassed, so he didn't need to see to know that a rose tint stained her cheeks.

"Fine. How did he do?"

He stowed the pipe in his pouch and carefully watched her reaction. "He's better than I thought. He barely beat me. Looks like Squall is going to have a hell of a time tomorrow." She almost smiled, but seemed to catch herself. Irvine was disappointed in her. "What kind of bet do you have with 'Lord Almasy' anyway?"

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about." She tried to pull the uppity 'instructor' voice with Irvine, but it never seemed to work with him. It never worked with Seifer either. Irvine patiently waited while she fidgeted and tugged at her hair. He thought she needed to wear it down more often. It suited her. It was much more...natural looking. "It's just a silly wager about the outcome of this tourn...oh, don't worry about it. I wish I hadn't even agreed to it."

"Why?"

She hesitated. "Well, it's because..."

Irvine waited again while she sorted her thoughts. If he had known that Quistis was having a screaming batty-bitch-battle inside of her brain, he might have interrupted earlier than he did. But he just thought that she was being all pensive and Quistis-ish. He had to grab her wrist to keep her from pulling her hair out in frustration. "You want him to win now, don't you?"

"Oh God, Irvine. I don't fucking know! He's such a dickhead, so I want to win the bet and make him suffer. But then again, he can be so damn charming and make me feel like a fucking queen, and then he..."

"Well, then. Why don't you call off the bet?"

Quistis' eyes widened. Of course. That way she wouldn't have to slap him when he rubbed it in her face if he won. "Do you think that he would..."

_Well, you could still slap him around a little. I bet he'd love that. A little slap and tickle...maybe you could use your whip and he could take the plume from his helmet and..._

_God! Shut up. I have to find him first._

_Well, I'm sure he's resting for the big day tomorrow. Of course, if you do what I think you want to do, then he won't mind the intrusion. I daresay it will be welcomed with open arms and a nice, huge, warm..._

_Don't say it._

_What? I was going to say hug, but now you have me wondering just what the hell YOU were thinking, you little minx..._

Irvine tipped his hat back so he could better see the stars wheeling in the sky. It really was a beautiful night. "I reckon he might, but you'd have to ask him, not me."

Quistis gave Irvine a quick peck on the cheek and playfully tugged his ponytail. "I need to go, but thank you for listening. It means a lot to me."

Irvine smiled as Quistis left him to gaze at the moon and stars. Maybe it was just the greens, but ever-romantic Irvine thought that the astral orbs burned a bit brighter because the lady was finally seeking her knight.

"Hey Irvine!" Quistis stopped before she left the shade of the trees, turning to the ranger with glowing blue eyes that were no longer quite so...well, _blue_.

"Yeah?"

"You'd make a great knight, you know."

"So I've been told!"

_-----------------------------------------------------_

Quistis arrived at Seifer's camp just in time to hear muffled curses and groans. She tried to soften her footfalls, but there was no need to be stealthy, since the voices of Seifer and Fujin were loud enough to drown even the noisiest of footsteps. They had left the fire burning in the ring just outside of their tent, and she could see every shadowed movement within. Quistis blinked in disappointed shock when she saw Fujin's shadow atop Seifer's on his cot. Seifer seemed to be lying on his back, while Fujin was sitting astride his prone form.

"Damn it, Fu! Oh fuck, just slide off and let me try. I swear, I think I'll have to do it by myself..." Quistis saw Seifer's hand move down towards his hips, but Fujin grabbed his wrists and held them to the bed by his head.

"TRYING!"

"I'll never be able to...Oh God...Fujin!"

"TOO BIG." Fujin wiggled and moved, shifted and flexed. Quistis thought she was going to be sick. She stepped back when saw Raijin exit Fujin's tent and stir the fire, sending a shower of sparks in the cool air. Leaves crackled under her feet, but he didn't notice.

"Oh, don't give me that! I've watched you take on some _much _bigger than mine! Now keep going."

"TIRED."

"Well, use your mouth if you have to! Damn, do I have to tell you how to do everything?" Fujin released her hold on Seifer's hands to slide farther down his form. She bent down to...Quistis closed her eyes. It was too much. Damn him to hell.

"Hey boss, I need to get my...WHOA! I didn't know you had such a huge..." Quistis watched Raijin enter the tent and saw his large shadow merge with those of Seifer and Fujin as he took a seat on the cot. Quistis closed her eyes, then opened them again. Surely Seifer's loyalty to his posse didn't...oh God, _extend_ quite that far.

"GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!" Oh good. At least he's just a cheating bastard and not a kinky freak.

"Hey Fu? Do ya need some help? 'Cause that looks like it would hurt, ya know..."

"YES! HOLD!" Quistis saw Raijin move to the head of the cot and grab Seifer's arms. He held the knight down while Fujin began...

Whatever she did, Quistis missed it. Tears clouding her vision, she stumbled through the trees, hopefully to find Xu's tent before sunrise so she could leave the fucking faire and go back to her nice, safe Garden. She sniffed and cursed, kicked every leaf that dared to cross her path, and snarled at the few Trepies that tried to ogle her. When they saw the blind fury in her icy blue eyes, they didn't even pay attention to her rack.

So...the noble Lord Almasy was a lying bastard that just wanted a warm body for sparring practice. Cocksucking son-of-a-bitch. Quistis felt like a bigger fool than Zell, just like her inner voice had mentioned earlier. She cursed Seifer, Fujin, Selphie, and herself most of all. She hadn't been humiliated like this since that god-awful night in the training center.

Even her inner voice was subdued and apologetic.

_Well, darling...I'll not say I told you so._

_Oh, fuck you!_

_I was TRYING to be supportive!_

_No, you just wanted to gloat!_

_How can I gloat when I'm as disappointed as you? It was ME wanting to visit him as well, you silly cunt!_

_SHUT UP!!!!_

_Fine! I'm leaving!_

Entering the merciful darkness of the forest around the faire, Quistis sat on a stump and covered her face with her hands. She couldn't even rely on herself to support...herself. She could have sworn that she heard a mental door slam as her inner voice left her to brood alone.

"Shit."

----------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh God! Finally!" Seifer released a shaky breath. Fujin wasn't exactly gentle when she performed first aid. The silver haired woman held aloft her hand in triumph, a massive thorn between her fingers. "HUGE!"

"Hey, sir! That's almost like that story you like so much, ya know, the one where the guy yanks the sword outta that big rock, ya know!"

Seifer laughed at Raijin's observation. "Yeah, stuck in my rock-hard abs! Good one, Raj!"

Fujin slapped Seifer on the forehead before she climbed off of him. If Raijin hadn't helped hold Seifer to the bed, she might have never pulled that sharp, hooked thorn from his belly. "REVENGE?" She wanted to go kick the ass of whatever Leonhart fan had thrown that brick and forced Seifer to duck into a briar patch to avoid a concussion, but her lord had commanded that she ignore it. He was in a strangely good mood, even though she had just extracted a piece of wood the size of his lance from his belly.

Seifer winced when he lifted himself to a sitting position. That damned thing _hurt_. "Naw, not tonight. I'll take care of all those assholes tomorrow. I'll beat the shit out of the Black Knight and finally get to win the lady."

Raijin blushed at this, nervously rubbing the back of his head. "Hey about that, Boss, er, Sir. We really didn't mean to stop you and the instructor, ya know. It was just a...OUCH!" Fujin kicked Raijin in the shins when she saw Seifer's face darken. "SILENCE!"

"No, it's alright, Fu. I think I scared her anyway. She would have ran off even if you guys hadn't shown up like that." Pulling his tunic back on, Seifer stepped outside to walk and think. He silently cursed himself for acting the way he did when he met Quistis in that alleyway. It seemed so damn right at the time, but looking back on it, it was probably one of the dumbest things he had ever done. Instead of treating her like the delicate lady she was, he had jumped on her like she was a two-gil whore having a half-off sale. It was no wonder that she hadn't shown up to watch him at the archery contest.

Raijin sat by Fujin and looked at her in wonder. "She sure didn't act scared to me! I thought she was gonna, ya know, like throw him down on the ground and tear his clothes off, even with all of those people around. I didn't think she had it in her, 'cause she normally acts so stuck up, ya know."

"YES."

"Should we follow him?"

"NO."

"Give him some time, right?"

Fujin nodded slowly. Brave Lord Almasy wasn't even saying _methinks, knave_, or _smite_. He had it much worse for the instructor than she had previously thought. Yes, Seifer needed some time and he _really _needed to speak with his lady. She hoped he would find her before the night was over or he would be absolute shit in the tournament tomorrow.


	9. Chapter 9

"Squall?"

"…………"

"Honey? You did a great job today."

"……….."

"Lord Leonhart? Come on, honey. Don't worry so much. You've beaten him once already and I'm sure you'll have no problems tomorrow."

"…………"

"You know, _most_ knights don't ignore their ladies."

"………."

Rinoa blew raven hair out of her eyes and tapped her fingers on the table. She was being ignored and she didn't like it. Not one bit. Squall had yet to speak a word to her about the results of the archery tournament and she was losing patience with him. Yes, he had been defeated by Almasy and humiliated by the hooting laughter of Selphie and Xu when he joined them in the stands, but that was no reason for her noble knight to give her the silent treatment.

Squall didn't like to lose and he really didn't like to be reminded about it. Unable to decide which hurt worse, losing to Almasy or Rinoa trying to cheer him up, Squall took another pull from his stein. The thick foam coated his lips and dripped down his chin, but he was a _little _too drunk to care.

Rinoa squeezed his arm. "Honey, don't drink too much, or you'll have a hangover tomorrow. You never really drink, so I think this stuff is hitting you pretty hard."

"……….._hiccup_…………"

"Why don't we get out of here and go see Zell? I think he's the bloke in the 'Soak A Bloke' show. It should really be funny and we can forget about the tournament for a while. Irvine said that it's pretty good and they have an all female version too. 'Wench Drenching' or 'Drench A Wench' or something like that. He's looked forward to this show since the faire opened."

Squall almost chuckled. Irvine _would_ look forward to a show where busty women in revealing bodices were dunked into frigid water. It was the medieval equivalent of a wet t-shirt contest. Instead, he shook his head and tried to stand from the table. Rinoa was right; Seifer was probably already asleep, resting for the big event. There was no way in hell Squall planned on giving Seifer an advantage in anything, even something as simple as a few extra winks of sleep. Standing proved to be one hell of a challenge, since somebody had obviously snuck behind him and tampered with the floor. Who the hell thought it would be a good idea to make the floor _wiggly? _It was flat when he started drinking…

Rinoa tried once more to gain the attention of the Black Knight after he finally collapsed next to her again. Playfully poking his cheek, she said in a singsong voice, "M'lord? M'loooooorrrddd? Did M'lord quaff a bit too much? M'lord? _M'lord! _Answer me right now, damn it! Aren't you supposed to answer the summons of your lady?" Squall shrugged and Rinoa almost felt jealous of Quistis for an instant. At least _her _knight was ready to pay her some attention, whether she wanted it or not. In spite of what Quisty thought, Rinoa could tell that Seifer had it _bad _for the instructor. Through the entire archery contest, she saw Seifer searching the stands for a very particular someone between his shots. She wished that Quistis had actually stuck around to see him looking for her instead of running off to find that damned coffee. She wished that Squall had waved or winked or…anything really. Humph. He didn't even bother to take his eyes off the target! Now he was ignoring her again! Muscles twitched in Rinoa's cheeks and she felt an evil smile raise the corners of her mouth. "You know, I bet that _Lord Almasy _is speaking to _his_ lady right now. I bet that he is telling her that she's beautiful and divine and…"

---------------------------------------------------

Later, after the dust had settled and the last of the screaming customers had fled the mead tent, she told security that a madman with a spiked war-hammer and a crazy look in his eyes had entered the festivities and chopped the table to ale-soaked splinters. It wouldn't do at all for the hero of the faire to be arrested for drunken assault on a rented picnic table. Thankfully, Squall had hidden his sword under his cape once he realized that the oaken boards were _already _dead, and no amount of frenzied chopping would kill them any more.

-------------------------------------------------------

_Pop._

"God! Stop it!"

_Crackle._

"Please!"

_Creeeeak._

"That's terrible!"

_POP!_

"No more! I can't take it!"

"Alright. That is _it. _You people wanted to know about torture, so I'm _trying _to make it realistic. If someone was stretched on the rack, then their joints would sound just like _this_."

_POP! CREAK! SNAP! _

The black-hooded executioner pulled the handle again and a skinny, misshapen leg popped out of its socket. Four women passed out, a man shrieked and ran into the night, and somewhere below knee level, a sick little bastard giggled. "Hee hee! Hey, I want to see some blood! Can we see the thumb screws next? Or the Iron Maiden? Or that thing that you twist until the foot gets smashed in that weird boot? Or the…"

"Oh God, no! Please stop!"

Xu thought she was doing a great job, but with the exception of the psychopath-in-training, the last tour group of the night didn't agree. In her attempt to bring an element of realism to the woefully inaccurate spectacle that was the Balamb Faire, she had tried everything from cracking walnuts in her palms to snapping twigs over her knees in hopes of approximating the sound of broken and mistreated cartilage. During lunch one afternoon, after listening to Zell's rather guttural ingestion of a turkey leg, the twisted bird of inspiration lodged its bony talons into her brain. Of course! If one wanted to make the demonstration of the rack believable, then one had to actually throw someone on the rack!

Alas, even the largest of bribes weren't enough to get approval for a human to go on the rack, so Xu had been forced to resort to other, more legal measures. The cafeteria ladies would be forever grateful. After the trucks would arrive with their shipment of cheerfully optimistic turkeys, Xu would be called to do a few public beheadings. These were always enormously successful. The crowds cheered and threw flowers towards the chopping block, shouting _God's will be done! _and _Huzzah! _with the bloodthirsty zeal that most civilized societies tried to eliminate. (Unless it was profitable, then a thirst for blood was encouraged. In the case of the faire, Selphie insisted that free rain ponchos be handed out at the executions to increase the size of the crowds.) The turkeys were then sent to the kitchens, where the legs were seasoned and roasted, and the rest of the formerly-optimistic birds would be tossed in stewpots. It amused Xu to think that people could ignore the fact that their lunches were happily gobbling amongst themselves one minute, then being, well, _gobbled _the next.

Disappointed by the willful ignorance shown by most of the participants of the faire, Xu kept a couple of birds around to toss on her improvised rack for her demonstrations. Sure, it was designed for use on an average-sized human, but with a bit of rope and a lot of ingenuity, the rack became a gigantic meat tenderizer. After all, _somebody _had to make at least one aspect of the faire accurate. The jousts were a joke, the costumes were a hodge-podge of cross-century styles, and the music used didn't even _reflect _the political climate of the fifteenth century. At least they'd leave the faire with a good idea of what torture was really like.

"How can you do that to those poor birds?"

Surprised by the question, the ever-pragmatic Xu stopped turning the handle and looked through the eyeholes of her hood, carefully examining her inquisitor. Those poor birds? The damned thing was headless and well past the point of mortal poultry concerns, but she was expected to show concern for _food_? "What? It's not like it'll be going to waste. I do plan on _eating_ it later."

Perhaps it was her muffled tone, or maybe it was the fact that her eyes couldn't be seen; it might have even been her massive axe or the fearsome hood, but _something_ about Xu made the dungeon clear out in a hurry that night. In the main thoroughfare of the faire, the ground quaked from the stampede that resulted when the panicked crowd from the dungeon merged with the frightened drunks from the mead tent.

"Oi! What are _you_ runnin' from?"

"A madman in the mead tent! And you?"

"An executioner with a decapitated turkey and a really big axe!"

"Oh jolly good! Welcome to our little panic!"

Watching the costumed patrons disappear, Xu shrugged and rolled her eyes. Some people just couldn't handle history. Xu undid the restraints securing the turkey to the rack and lifted it, carefully judging the weight of the bird. Even though all of that torture worked up one hell of an appetite, she knew that she couldn't eat the huge turkey by herself. Swinging her axe on her shoulder and her future dinner by her hip, Xu left the dungeon and its very interesting paraphernalia to find Quistis. She whistled a merry tune and began the search for her blonde tent mate. She hadn't seen her since the first part of the archery contest and she was beginning to get a bit worried.

Thanks to her hood and axe, Xu was so accustomed to an unimpeded path that she was shocked to find her way blocked by a very broad chest and a nice set of abs. Her face slammed into a solid set of pectoral muscles and she looked up in offended surprise. "Hey! Watch it! There's a chick with an axe coming through here! Wait a tic…it's YOU!"

Seifer quickly jumped back, his hand on the pommel of his broadsword. In his quest to find his lovely lady, he wasn't expecting to be thumped in the chest by a hooded witch with a bloody wing'd familiar. "Ye gods! Plague me no more, foul spirit! Away, lest I smite thee with…wait…Xu?"

"Yeah? What of it?"

Grinning, Seifer grabbed Xu by the shoulders and enthusiastically shook her. Four hours of searching and he had yet to find a single clue to Quistis' whereabouts. But Xu would know. Hopefully, anyway. The White Knight was worried. Very worried. A madman with a warhammer and a grudge against tables was rumored to be loose on the grounds and he knew that his lady would need her knight for protection. Well…on second thought, the madman might be the one to need protection if he tried to tangle with Quistis, but it was the principle of the thing, damn it. She may not have needed his protection, but he wanted her to _want _it. What good was a knight if he couldn't protect his lady?

More than this though, he wanted to ask her about that kiss…Damn her to the depths of the abyss! Why did she have to wear _that _costume? And why did she have to be so soft and so fucking _pretty_? And who the hell taught her to kiss like _that? _And why the hell was he thinking in italics so much? "Thank the gods! Speak! Hast thou spied my lady fair?"

"What the hell? Who?"

"Why, none other than the sublime goddess whose golden beauty makes Aphrodite herself weep in bitter jealousy! The bright star that even now may be in…"

"Wait, wait, wait. Who the HELL are you talking about? How much wine have you had tonight?" Xu shook off his hands and sniffed his breath, trying to determine just how drunk Seifer Almasy would have to be to compliment any living soul…other than himself. Hmm….stone cold sober. "Did you get hit in the head?"

"Nay, night bride of death. I am on a quest to find milady and tell her of my…"

Xu laughed and the hollow sound made the few remaining spectators scatter to safer, less-terrifying corners of the faire. A giggling executioner was just a bit too creepy. "Well, you certainly had a long line of buxom idiots winking at you in the wine tent. Which of your groupies did you finally convince to be your lady, eh Almasy?"

Were there other women at the faire? He didn't recall any other women…Wait. Oh yes, the harlots and whores that sought his attention… eh, none of them mattered. Since his first glimpse of Quistis at the joust, he hadn't noticed them any more than he noticed the flies buzzing around the stables. Disgusted by her suggestion, Seifer waved off the cruel jest. "Those painted wenches tempt me not."

"Oh really? Painted wenches, eh? Well, well, well. Lord Almasy has gone all noble. Funny thing."

"Alas, I shall find no rest until milady honors me with another summer snow glance. She is both a blessing and a curse, and I fear a descent into madness should I be banish'd from her favor." It was very true. Since that wonderful windswept kiss, Seifer had been a distracted armor-clad wreck. The tournament, once a way to coerce Quistis into shaming herself in _that _costume, was now nothing more than a barrier separating him from his lady. Seifer _meant_ for her to sashay around a bit so he could make a few lewd jokes and see her blush. He _meant _to see how many peanuts he could throw at her cleavage before she would slap the hell out of him. He _meant _to win the tournament so Quistis would be forced to strut her stuff and jiggle a bit while he watched and laughed. But now…oh, but now! The tournament be damned, he just wanted to find her. The knight sought his lady and nothing else mattered. Smiling, he stroked the ribbon on his arm and spoke in a soft voice, "I seek the beautiful Lady Trepe."

Xu's jaw dropped. That was the same ribbon Quistis had in her hair when she left to find coffee that afternoon. Why did Seifer Almasy have her ribbon? Adjusting her grip on both the axe handle and the turkey, she fixed Seifer with a menacing glare. As soon as her eyes narrowed, she remembered that the black hood covered her face and he couldn't see the evil expression on her face. Oops. Since her glare was ineffective, she instead peppered her tone with a bit more malice and stirred gently. The throaty rumble of her vocal cords made Seifer take a step backwards. "Why the bloody hell do you have her fucking ribbon? And why are you looking for her anyway?"

"Ah! Milady favored me with this ribbon when the wind gods sent her to…HEY! QUIT SWINGING THAT DAMNED TURKEY!"

"Oh! Right! How silly of me!" Snarling, Xu switched attacks and charged with the axe, but Seifer ducked just in time to miss the keen edge as it whistled over his head. "Where is she? I've not seen her since this afternoon. What have you done with her?"

"Stop it, you crazy fucking bitch! I've not done anything to her, but I need to find her so I can…QUIT IT!"

"Stop dodging!" Xu lamented the absence of her chopping block. Executing a person was _much _harder than killing a turkey, especially when the person in question happened to be very athletic and very, _very_ opposed to losing his head. Watching the muscles flex under his tunic, Xu had to admit that he made dodging a heavy blade look very good. It was no wonder Quistis blushed every time he happened to smile at…oh dear. Xu finished her last sweep with the axe and planted the butt of the handle in the ground. "Alright, Lord Almasy. I'm listening. Why are you looking for her?"

Seifer warily eyed the seven-foot bladed behemoth as he answered Xu. "Well, see…the thing is, we have a bet going about this tournament."

"Yes. And? Quistis has already told me about it." Xu tilted her head and Seifer found himself wishing that he had carried more than just his sword...he wanted his shield, helmet and a really big, really heavy stick. She was scary enough on her best days, but Xu dressed as the recruiting officer for Death's Army was downright frightening. "She didn't mention the exact terms, though. Every time I asked, she refused to tell me."

Seifer started to push his way past, but decided to answer her when she threatened him again with her turkey. All things considered, she was being rather gracious. It could have been the axe again. "Yeah, she wouldn't tell you. Trust me. But, that really doesn't matter now, because I need to find her to call off the bet. I just can't do it to her." Well, not anymore. There were a lot of _other_ things he wanted to do to her, but they certainly didn't need to be broadcasted to the general public. Unless Quistis happened to be into that sort of thing, which Seifer doubted. Although…

"Do _what, _exactly?"

Seifer thought that snowmen would be buying condos in hell before he told Xu his plans for her best friend while she held the steak knife of the Titans in her hands. "Just…don't worry about it. If you see her, tell her I'm looking for her. It's important."

Xu glared at him again, but nodded in agreement. She didn't care for Seifer, but she wanted to find Quistis as badly as he did. The more people searching for her, the better. "Fine. But if you find her before I do, send her to me. I'm worried about her. She's acting kind of…crazy lately." Seifer grinned, then started his search anew.

Xu shook her head as she watched him wander off, shouting for his lady fair. The faire was certainly making people act odd.

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"Oh dearie me."

Quistis jerked awake at the sound of crackling leaves and too-close-for-comfort breathing. She hadn't meant to doze off in the middle of the woods, but too much wine and Irvine's chocobo greens were more potent a combination than she originally thought. "Who's there?"

"Oh dearie me. Lost in the woods, are you? Mercy, mercy." Wrinkled fingers grabbed Quistis by the arm and helped her to her feet. The old fortune teller pulled leaves from her hair and wrapped a moth-eaten cloak around her shoulders. "You're frozen, child. Why are you sleeping in the leaves instead of with your brave knight, eh? Didn't you go to the right vendor this afternoon?"

Quistis squinted at the short figure leading her deeper into the forest. The silver luminosity of the moon was shadowed and broken by the dense branches, fading to an invisible glow as they wound around tree trunks and twisted roots. Quistis had no trouble following the hag, even though she was blinded by the darkness. How the hell did this old woman keep finding her and why the fuck did she care so much about Seifer? Where the hell were they walking, anyway? "I, uh, tried to find the right vendor, but I was distracted."

"Oh really? Mmm…distracted, yes. Distracted by a handsome fellow dressed in white, maybe? Did he keep you from your coffee? I daresay you found something much tastier than that nasty coffee though, didn't you?"

Quistis felt her chest hitch again at the memory of Seifer's lips on hers and his warm hands on her back and shoulders and…well, everything. It had been such a wonderful afternoon and such a terribly disappointing night. "Well, the wind blew the ribbon from my hair and I found S-Seifer and he was holding my ribbon, then he was holding _me_…then…tent…eye-patch…too big…now I'm lost and…"

The fortune teller sighed in exasperation. She normally helped chambermaids become royalty and helped exiled princes reclaim their thrones. Blondes were her specialty, but never before had she worked with such a stubborn girl. The long-haired nutcase in the tower was bad, and she didn't want to even _try_ to remember all the trouble she had with the narcoleptic princess, but this girl was really causing her some problems. She blamed it on the Women's Liberation movement. They just didn't make damsels in distress like they used to back in _her _day. Then again, this girl wouldn't be a good distressed damsel in _any_ time period. It was no wonder that the knight liked her so much. "Dearie, what the hell are you babbling about?"

Quistis wished that she hadn't been abandoned by her inner voice. _She _certainly wouldn't have stuttered her way through a reenactment of the days events. _She _would have been able to easily say, _Oh, yes. Thank you ever so much for sending me to find Seifer this afternoon. I think I've just fallen head over heels for him, which is unfortunate because I believe that I will kill the cheating bastard if I ever see him again. And no, I never did get that coffee. _Her inner voice would have also made a few vulgar references to his anatomy, but Quistis couldn't be bothered with that at the moment. It was actually lonely without the crazy bitch. "I'm not babbling! I just…"

The witch clapped her hand over Quistis' mouth and pulled her down into the leaves. "Shh! D'you hear that?"

Quistis listened, but all she could hear was the soft sigh of leaves as they flirted with each other and fell to the ground. Jerking her chin, she was able to free her mouth from the clutching hands of the fortune teller. "I don't hear a damn thing. We need to…Wait…yes! I hear a voice!" Wondering what sort of lunatic hatchet murderer might be wandering the forest at such a late hour, Quistis tried to convince the old woman that it might be a good idea to head back to the faire. "Look lady, considering the luck I've had today, we might want to go back. I don't want to meet some psycho in the woods and…"

"Would you shut your trap and listen? That sure doesn't sound like a madman to me. He actually has a nice voice. I bet he'd be a good singer." Quistis listened again to the rich baritone as the mysterious voice drew closer and closer to their perch in the fallen leaves.

It was the sort of voice that could make a girl go all aquiver in her liver. Quistis blinked as she heard rapid mental footsteps and a shaking hand try to insert a mental key into a locked mental front door.

'_All aquiver in your liver?' Are you fucking kidding me? I leave you for only six hours while I go out for a beer and you come up with something like that? I've taught you better than that, darling._

_Oh! There you are! I was worried! And yes…I can't think up zingers like you, er me, whatever. _

_Worried were you? Well, well. I thought you were eager to be rid of me. _

_Well, yes. I was, but now I…_

_Shh! Listen! You do recognize that voice, don't you? You know…I'm well aware that he's a lying twat that needs to be slowly, painfully and publicly castrated, but I can't help but wonder just what we might do if that voice happened to be rumbling against our …_

Quistis slapped herself in the forehead. It bloody damn figured. The person that she least wanted to see would be the very same one that happened to be wandering in the woods, searching for…

"Milady!"

Ancient purple eyes focused on Quistis and a gummy grin parted the wrinkled hemispheres of the old woman's face when she saw the obvious stress in the younger girl's expression. She reconsidered her earlier position. This girl was quite possibly the most distressed…well, at least the most _stressed _damsel she had ever seen. If something didn't change soon, this pretty blonde would probably end up as a cackling hag tempting war heroes into the moors to commit regicide. "Hmm. I believe that lad is looking for you."

"I want _nothing _to do with that bastard."

"Oh really? And why is that, dear?"

Quistis thought she had clamped her mouth shut, but soon heard her unwilling voice spilling every embarrassing event that happened to her that afternoon, starting with how good it felt to have such a handsome man being so smitten with her to how humiliated she was when she discovered Fujin on top of _her _knight. The fortune teller _had_ to be a witch.

"Hmm. Yes, yes, that could be a problem. A big problem." Bracelets clanged against each other as the old woman thoughtfully tapped her chin. Didn't these whippersnappers know how these things worked? "So, I gather that you are a bit disappointed in your knight, eh?"

"Disappointed? Hell yes I'm disappointed!" Quistis' voice was so loud that she failed to notice that Seifer had heard her and was rapidly approaching her screaming form. "I thought I might have actually meant something to him, but it turns out I was really, really wrong! I am fortune's bloody fucking fool! Now he's one event away from winning the tournament and I'll have to…" Quistis shut her mouth when she saw the witch lift her wrinkled hand and wave. "Ye gods. He's right behind me, isn't _he-eeeeee?!?"_ Shrieking as she was lifted into the air, Quistis tried to struggle out of the tight grip of one extremely relieved knight.

"Milady! Gods be praised! I've searched the length and breadth of yon bustling faire and now…OW!" Seifer gingerly licked his lip where Quistis elbowed him. She must have _really _been pissed off about that kiss to hit him so hard. If she had been a man, he would have slugged her in the mouth before she even had time to blink, but he couldn't do that to his lady. "Milady! I wish to tell you…OOF! Ye gods, my scepter and orbs…" Collapsing onto the damp forest floor, Seifer curled into a ball and tried to regain his breath.

_Ooh! Fantastic shot, darling. _

_It was pretty good, wasn't it?_

_I daresay he'll have to visit the smithy to have THAT sword reforged, eh? _

_Yes, it may be tough for him to ride a horse…_

_Or anything else, for that matter…_

_Ha! But as I was saying, it will be difficult for him to ride his horse in the joust tomorrow, so if Squall doesn't screw up, then my worries may be over! _

"Goddamnit, why'd you have to kick me in the jewels?" With the aid of the chuckling witch, Seifer pulled himself up and angrily shouted at Quistis, "What the hell is wrong with you? Alright, _Milady, _maybe I shouldn't have kissed you earlier, but I didn't think you were _that _fucking opposed to it! You seemed to really be enjoying it, so don't try to pretend that I've…"

"You are such an _asshole_! I didn't kick you because of that kiss! As a matter of fact…"

_Oh yes! That kiss was enough to make us wonder if we shouldn't try to climb…_

Hands at her temples, Quistis closed her eyes and screamed, "SHUT UP!"

"I didn't say anything!"

"Not _you!" _

"Then who the hell are you telling to shut up?"

"I'm telling you to shut up now! Or can't you understand me? Let me translate for you…Bite thy silver tongue, wretch. This lady hath no need for honey'd words and empty oaths. False knight be gone from my presence. Go quest for your holy grail, fall off the boat on your way to Avalon, battle with the Rabbit of Caerbannog, I don't care…just get the hell away from me! I don't want to hear any more of your 'Milady' bullshit."

Seifer didn't quite know what to make of this sudden attack. He expected to have her yell at him, maybe even throw something at his head, but not this. A false knight? Ouch. "You seemed to like it earlier!"

"Well, that was before you fucked your damned squire!"

"My squire…I didn't…" Seifer absently ran his fingers over the satin band on his arm. This was not exactly what he had planned when he hoped to find his lady. Instead of his golden star queen, he found himself battling a beast far more fearsome than any dragon or hydra. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, you crazy broad!"

"Finally! The White Knight shows his true colors! I knew that you never meant it when you said all of those nice things to me! I've always just been a crazy broad to you! And why the hell do you still have my ribbon?" Quistis tore the ribbon from Seifer's arm and gave him a final hurt glance. "Hmm. Maybe I'll find somebody that _deserves _this tomorrow at the joust. _Good luck _at the joust tomorrow, Seifer." With that, Quistis stalked back towards the faire, slipping on leaf mould and stumbling over gnarled roots.

"I fucking hate it when people wish me luck, Instructor!" Seifer watched Quistis bounce away, utterly flabbergasted at her accusations. What a bitch! A real hot bitch, but a bitch nonetheless.

"Well…that went rather well, don't you think?" Oh yeah. That old hag was still lurking around. What the hell did she want from him? Come to think of it, what did she want with Quistis? "You know, I saw this coming from a mile away. This is how these sort of things work until…"

Seifer ground his teeth together and tried to focus on non-homicidal thoughts. _Think of her face once you win the tournament. She'll be humiliated and humbled. Think of her expression tomorrow when you force her to shake her shimmy and jiggle those cans. Think of…oh, it's useless. Something must have happened to her to make her freak out like that. _"Look, you might be a fortune teller or an oracle or one of…"

"An oracle? Holy hell, son! Don't you dare compare me to one of those mouthy hussies!" The old woman stuck her chin in the air. "I happen to be an auricle!"

"Don't you listen? That's what I just said!"

"Heh! That's the thing! The very thing! I _listen. _Oracles tell you what to do, but they never _listen._ That's where I come in, laddie."

"It's the same damn word!"

"You damned idiot! Auricle--with an 'A', not Oracle--with an 'O'! Your little lady friend sure would have picked up on it if you hadn't scared her away!"

"Me? She just kicked the shit out of me and _I'm _the one that scared _her _away? Are you blind?"

"Oh aye. She kicked you, alright, but she thinks she's justified. A woman scorned and all that, you see. You didn't even give her a chance to tell you what was botherin' her."

"I didn't give her a cha…are you kidding me? Do you know what she was talking about, because I'm pretty fucking lost!"

Gently patting Seifer on the arm, the old wise woman pointed him in the direction of her wagon. "Get to walkin' laddie. We'll make some tea, then I'll explain some things to you. It'll make much better sense once you see what she saw. You could do with a lesson in listenin' anyway."

Seifer really didn't want to go back to that wagon, but he did want to see why Quistis turned from a beautiful lady to a half-mad banshee. "Well, which is it? Am I going to see something or am I going to listen to you?"

"Sonny…shut the hell up. You'll find out soon enough."

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Note: Sorry, but I just don't like this chapter. It's kind of blah and very rushed, but I needed to get through it so I can get to the next one, which should be much, much better. It at least has some structure. I apologize for so much filler. I would have just skipped it, but that wouldn't make any sense at all. Please forgive me. Also used some more from Willie S., some fairy tale references, and a wee tribute to Monty Python. And I'm pretty sure that an auricle is actually part of the ear, but I thought it would be fun to play with that word for the little fortune teller chick. So, now that I have this frickin' chapter out of the way, I can get work on the joust chapter, which I've wanted to do since I started this thing.


	10. Chapter 10

Zell was smiling.

Okay, Zell was doing more than smiling. Dodging the morning bottles and boots, Zell's facial muscles were cramping because of the enormous grin stretched across his tattooed face, but it was worth it.

Oh, it was _so_ worth it.

"GOOD MORROW LORDS AND LADIES!"

"What's good about it?" A slightly peeved participant popped his head out of his tent and glared at the fool. "And why are you..." Zell ceased his merry dance and listened to the drowsy actor. "...what do you call that, anyway? That's the ugliest dance I've ever seen."

Bowing low before the tent, Zell removed his cap and gestured to the bright morning and the excited spectators already up and about, chattering amongst themselves about the big joust. He could finally understand why Selphie insisted on staying in character. It really was a hell of a lot more fun that way. "Why, I am _capering_, good sir, which is a fine and noble thing for one of my profession to do! Come sir! Shed the cloak of dreams and open thine eyes! Witness the grand scene before thee!"

The actor rubbed his eyes and tried to see what was so damned important. "I don't get it. I was expecting naked barmaids or at least a dwarf on a unicycle, but I don't see anything so fucking great."

"Dost thou not see the dark cloud that hath descended upon yon faire?"

"Eh? What the hell? The sun's out, you bloody fool!"

Zell laughed and began capering again. "Aye, good sir, and truly 'tis a most glorious day!"

"Then what's with the dark cloud? Is it supposed to rain or something?"

"Nay! Lookest thou closely...what once was a faire divided is now the house of Leonhart!"

Indeed, the faire had become a much darker place. Since Lord Kinneas fell to the wicked white knight, his supporters had turned out in royally pissed off droves to support his black robed ally. Even though the white knight's fans were fierce, they were still woefully outnumbered by the converted horde now sporting shades of midnight and ink.

If Squall lost today, then there would be no chance that Seifer could escape the faire without getting ye olde shit beat out of him.

"Oh. Well, that's nice, I suppose." The actor didn't give a costumed hoot who won the joust. He was still a loyal supporter of the brave Nida, who had long ago been eliminated from competition. It still pissed him off that nobody even seemed to notice...

"Look kid. Do you plan on letting me go back to sleep anytime soon? I had a pretty wild night and I just want to..."

"Of course! Rest easy, sir. But be certain to cheer on our gallant Lord Leonhart, who shall mightily cleave the head from the cowardly white knight and..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...oh look! Over there! I think I see some white...oh, it's a chick! Yep, and she's trying to do cheerleading of her own for Almasy. Go get 'er tiger!"

Zell jumped to his feet and scampered off in the direction of the actor's hand, blowing his horn and swinging his belled cap in an attempt to drown out any voices that would dare support that fucking asshole Seifer.

Chuckling, the actor ducked back into his tent and wondered how long it would be before Zell figured out that he had pointed him towards a bit of toilet paper caught in a tree above the privies.

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A small child mouthed the cracked and peeling words painted onto the side of a wagon, clutching her wooden sword in one sticky, vaguely strawberry scented hand. That poor lollipop never stood a chance against the brave Lady Bea, who had defeated three really mean boys and one awfully smelly dog to earn her prize. Fortune favored the bold, or so she had been told. And boy, was she ever bold. She wanted to be a knight herself one day, even though her daddy told her that girls couldn't be knights. Bea's grip tightened. She'd show him! After all, her mommy told her she could be anything she wanted, and mommy was right more than daddy.

_Fortunes told to the brave and bold!_

"Hey! I'm brave and bold!"

_Tasseomancy and tarot reading--two gil._

"Guess I'll skip that one, whatever that one is."

_Pendulum reading--three gil. _

Bea noticed that this one was crossed out and statement was handwritten below.

_Due to gimpy wheel, pendulum readings no longer offered. If a wheelwright happens by, free reading offered in exchange for repairs._

Yep, she did have a broken wheel on that wagon. Oh well. There was nothing Bea could do to help, since she was a knight in training and she knew nothing of wagon repair.

_Palms read and dreams deciphered.--four gil_

Bea rubbed her hands on her dingy white top, wincing when she saw that it stained the fabric even more. She had tried so hard to keep her shirt clean for the joust, but it was hard when a bunch of old bullies tried to roll her in the dirt. "Hmm. If she sees my palm now, all she'd be able to tell me was that I just some candy. Not that it matters anyway...those jerks took all my gil." Sighing, Bea turned to find her parents so they could eat lunch before they watched the joust, when a voice that matched the cracked paint stopped her.

"You there! Girly!"

Bea shifted her grip on her wooden sword and met the shining eyes of the old fortuneteller. "It's _Bea, _not _Girly_."

"Hmm. So it is. Why are you lurking around my wagon? Ain't ye ever heard of knocking?"

The girl blushed. "It wouldn't do me any good to knock. I lost my money and I can't..."

"That's a nice sword you have there, kiddo."

Bea looked at her sword, examining the nicks and cuts in the wood, each a reminder of a battle won against an opponent. "Yeah, I'm going to use it to defend a kingdom one day so I can be like the white knight!"

"Oh really? Why him and not the black knight?"

"Well..." Bea wasn't entirely certain. She supposed that she should pull for the black knight, since her parents both supported Lord Leonhart and he was very popular with the rest of the faire, but she liked the white knight. He made that big speech about defending his lady and Bea just thought that was the greatest thing since strawberry lollipops.

"Most girls want to be the princess instead of a knight, you know."

"Not me! I'm gonna find a queen like my mommy and keep her safe!"

"Do you think so?"

Bea curiously peered into the old woman's purple eyes, certain that she had just seen a quick flash of gold. Nope, they were still purple...weren't they? "Y-yeah, I know so! I'm gonna work really hard and be the best knight ever!"

The old woman grinned, then winked at the lady-knight. Taking her hand, she made a show of looking at the girl's dirty palm, though she didn't need it to see the greatness in this child. She would indeed be one hell of a knight. "You really don't need to see me at all, do you? Sounds to me like you've made your own fortune, eh, Lady Bea?"

Bea smiled and blushed deeper at the fortuneteller's praise. Looking at her palm, she closed one eye and tried to see what the old woman saw in the lines and ridges of her skin. "You think so?"

"Oh, I know so. I've been around for more ages than I can count, dear, and I've learned a lot in my time. I can see it."

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"Xu, I could have the fire lit in just a second if you would let me use some matches."

Teeth chattering, Xu rearranged the logs and gently puffed on the fragile sparks she had _finally _coaxed from the previous night's coals. "Hell no, Q. It's bad enough that you used a sleeping bag instead of wrapping up in your cloak. I'm going to light this fire the way they did it back in the day, so don't try to convince me to use any of your modern conveniences. I would think that _you _of all people would appreciate historical accuracy."

"Not when it keeps me from getting a cup of fucking coffee!" A tendril of smoke lifted from the fire pit and both sighed in relief as the flames rose from their ashy bed.

Xu was cold and Quistis needed her coffee. Both were being total bitches to each other, but at least they were no longer drowsy. "Thank God! I was getting ready to cast a fire spell over your shoulder."

Xu added some more wood and placed a metal camping coffee pot on the grate over the flames. "Look _Lady Trepe_. I know you want your coffee, but until the water starts boiling, you're going to have to be patient. It's not my fault that you had such a rough night. I _tried_ to help."

Quistis rubbed her eyes, which were stinging and red from a combination of too much wine, too much weed, and crying all night into Xu's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Xu. I'm not trying to be a bitch, but absolutely _nothing _has worked out for me since I arrived. I wish that I had never left Garden to come to this stupid faire. The next time Selphie wants to do a fundraiser, I'm going to make sure that she sells magazine subscriptions."

With the fire blazing and the water on to boil, Xu began polishing her beloved axe so that she would be ready for her final few performances as the faire executioner. "Well, at least this faire is making a lot of money for that library renovation. Cid is thrilled, though he's spent most of the week so hammered that he can't even leave the royal privy."

"Yeah, he does like his booze, doesn't he?"

"Between him and Selphie, I think that...who the hell is that?" Xu squinted at a giant figure blocking the early morning sunlight.

"Mornin' Miss Torturer! Mornin' Instructor! I've been lookin' all mornin' for ya! Er, I mean, uh...oh hell...what is it I'm supposed to say?" A beaming Raijin failed to notice that Xu was tightening her grip on her axe handle as he struggled to think of words he could say that would make his boss proud of him. He knew that Seifer was taking the faire seriously, ya know, and that meant that the Posse had to take it seriously too. And all hell might break lose if the White Knight heard that his squire had been anything but polite to his lady...wait! That was it! Seifer was a knight and the instructor was his lady, so he had to use those funny words that his boss, er, sir liked so much. "Good morrow, Lady! This humble, uh, squire-guy would, I mean, wouldst like to...um, I mean, prithee..."

Xu and Quistis looked at each other, then looked at Raijin. The big man was pitifully confused and almost in tears at the thought that he might disappoint his boss. Shuffling his feet, Raijin came closer and closer to stomping out the fire that Xu had such trouble lighting just a little while ago.

Quistis stood and placed a hand on his arm before that could happen, since she needed that fire to heat the water for her coffee. Considering her foul mood, she knew that her barely-restrained-early-morning-pre-java-homicidal-impulses would go from pink-tinged daydreams to chunky blood-soaked reality if he prevented her from getting that coffee. "Raijin. You don't have to use those words around me. Just speak as you normally would."

_Thank you, darling. Why couldn't it have been the other one? You know, what's-her-face...Patches. We'll be here all morning if we wait on this lug to spit out whatever he wants to say._

_I don't want to see Fujin this morning either._

_Nor do I love, but at least we'd know what the hell she wanted, and in a bloody hurry too. The poor dear practically barks, you know. Do you think I should offer her a throat lozenge the next time we see her? I wonder if that would help._

_Are you serious?_

_Well, if this jolly stuttering asshole doesn't quit jabbering then, yes; I'll consider it. I want that coffee as badly as you, darling. Until we get rid of him, we'll have no peace._

"Thanks, ya know! Man, I was worried, 'cause I couldn't think of the right things to say, ya know and..." As he rambled on, Quistis wondered which was worse-Raijin's _prithees _or his _ya knows. _Either way, he was hard to understand. "...should be great, ya know. We've worked really hard to get ready for the joust, so it's nice to see the sky so..."

Waiting for the water to boil, she halfway listened to Raijin as he commented on the beautiful weather and the joust, feeling somewhat sympathetic for him, though very confused about his high spirits. She knew that Raijin wasn't the brightest man at the faire, but he wasn't an idiot. Why was he so damned _happy _this morning? Shouldn't he be ranting and raving about the betrayal of his Posse members? After all, he walked in on them in the middle of their horizontal acrobatics, so he should be ready to kill them both. Why was he still praising Seifer and getting so excited for that damned joust?

Xu passed out mugs when the coffee was ready, carefully watching and listening to the exchange. If what Quistis had told her was true, then why was he even visiting their tent? Xu's camp was far from Seifer's, so there was no way that he happened there by accident.

"...and I was just worried that you'd be mad at me for interruptin', ya know. The boss is plenty mad at me, 'cause he wanted to see you so bad, ya know..."

Enough was enough. His loyalty was touching, but she felt terrible knowing that Raijin was willing to let those two take advantage of his love for them. Shaking her head, Quistis looked up at Raijin and gave him a small smile. "I know that you think that they are your friends, but perhaps you should really reconsider..."

Raijin noticed the white ribbon holding back Quistis' long hair, surprised to see it with her instead of wrapped around Seifer's arm. "Wait, why do you have that ribbon? I thought you gave that to the boss, ya know."

Well, on second thought, maybe he really was an idiot.

"He's been actin' different since you gave it to him, ya know. Like he doesn't even care about winnin' anymore, ya know."

Quistis mentally slapped herself for feeling flattered that she had such an effect on the hyper-competitive Seifer, then blinked hard when...umm, _herself _slapped back.

_Don't DO that! _

_Well, you did it to me!_

_I didn't mean to! _

_Well, just watch yourself, er, me, er...damn it, just quit slapping me! Even though the white knight is nothing more than a dick in an iron condom, you can still allow yourself to be flattered, dear. Admit it. You LIKE knowing that you are able to drive all thoughts out of his head except for..._

_Stop right there. I know where you plan on going with that one, so just save it, you great pervert._

_Oh, fine. But still...you know I'm right._

"Raijin, winning this tournament is the _only _thing that matters to that jackass."

The oversized squire dropped his mug, splattering Xu and her newly polished axe with expensive Galbadian Roast. "No way! Sure, he wants to win and all, because he wants to beat the hell out of Leonhart, but I bet if you were to tell him to give it up, he'd have you on the back of his horse and..."

"RAIJIN! Will you listen to yourself?"

Xu and Raijin both jumped at the desperate squeak in Quistis' voice. Normally, she was calm and collected, every inch a perfect lady. Not this morning. Raijin just _knew _it was because he interrupted them when they wanted to be alone.

"Okay, so maybe he wouldn't really toss you on his horse, but I _know _that he'd do whatever you said. It's like you two are out of a story, ya know. At least, that's what the boss thinks, ya know."

"How can you even say that? You've been wronged by him as much as I have!"

Raijin silently corrected the instructor, thinking that it wasn't _his _boobs being groped by the boss in the middle of an alley, but he didn't want to bring _that _up in front of the executioner. He may have just been a squire, but that didn't mean that he couldn't be a gentleman. "Well, no. He was actually pretty calm about it, considerin' that I interrupted him when he uh, wanted to be...umm alone, ya know, with his lady and all. He didn't even yell at me...not much anyway. I just wanted to come by and tell you that I was sorry, ya know."

The handle of Quistis' coffee mug broke off in her hand. "Raijin, why the hell are _you _apologizing? There is no reason at all that you should ask my forgiveness. You've done nothing wrong. The only one that needs to apologize to me is Seifer."

_Ooh, I don't think that an apology will cut it, darling. Now, if Xu would let us borrow her axe, we might be able to..._

_Would you be quiet so I can talk to this poor man?_

_Oh, be that way. Sure, you'll talk to HIM, but when I want to have a conversation, it's nothing but nag, nag, nag! _

"Well, he spent all night lookin' for ya so he could tell you that he was sorry. He never even made it back to the tent last night." Worried, both Raijin and Fujin had wandered the faire in search of their boss, unaware that he was sitting through a _long _conversation with the old fortuneteller. "He told us that he felt really bad, ya know. He said that he shouldn't have treated you like that, ya know."

Quistis finished her coffee and stared at the brown stain at the bottom of the mug, afraid that she would start crying again if she looked at Raijin's honest, loyal face. "You're much too good a person to be friends with Seifer. He doesn't deserve you."

"Aw, thanks, but he's my boss, ya know."

Feeling much better now that he had been forgiven by the instructor, Raijin bid the pair another hesitant 'Good Morrow' and left them to return to Fujin. They had a busy day ahead of them and they needed a big breakfast. Even if it was nothing more than turkey, it was still the most important meal of the day. Besides, Fujin would kick his ass if he made her worry any more than necessary.

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Note: Okay, so one more chapter after this. (I think)

I know that I said that I was going to do the joust next, but I realized that it had been over a month since I updated this fic and I couldn't get everything I wanted written yet, plus I wanted to do the conversation with Q and Raijin and it just seemed silly tacked on to the next chapter.

Anyway, I've started playing FF9 again, so I wanted to pay a little respect to Beatrix, who just KICKS ASS! And a wee Kill Bill reference, since Beatrix and the Bride share the same name. (And yes, she has a sword named _Save the Queen._)


	11. Chapter 11

Note: Sorry for the long time between updates. I just suck lately with the whole time management thing.

Before I begin this chapter, I would very much like for everyone to go to my profile and take a peek at the wonderful sketch of Quistis in her renfaire costume by the very talented Aurenare. I'm still fucking _floored _that a she's taken the time from her studies to do this fantastic picture and I just wanted to show a bit of appreciation.

Did you look yet?

You can't read the rest of the fic until you do.

Isn't it great? Told you so! Did you see her _eyes? _Absolutely wicked, eh? And her skirt? Doesn't she look fucking awesome?!?!

I can't say thank you enough, Miss Aurenare! You fucking rule!

Okay, now that you've looked, you may continue...

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"What the hell is going on here?"

Selphie watched the security officers scratch their heads as they considered their problem. They had been directed to separate the Leonhart fans to one side of the arena and the Almasy fans to the other, but the stands on the eastern side were already filled with hundreds of black-clad supporters and there were more lining up for seats. The Almasy fans were gathered in one small section of the bleachers, but they were soon going to be surrounded by Leonhart's fans, both old and new.

Glitter fell to the ground as she shook her fingers in the face of a portly officer. "Who told you to assign seats? I want names so I can know who to kill when I..."

"Beggin' yer pardon, miss! 'Twas the king himself what ordered this, miss!"

"The King? He's _here_?" Selphie jumped up and tried to see over the guard's shoulders. She _loved _the King, but she didn't realize that he was a fan of historical reenactments. If she had known, she would have offered him a pair of wings to match hers. She had all of his concerts on dvd and she knew that he loved glitter and sequins as much as she did. How exciting!

"Ooooh, and here I am with no panties to throw! Damn! I _told_ Irvie that I might need those, but _nooo, _he says that I look better without them, so I left 'em in my tent. Ooooh, the King! I wonder if he'll sing that song about ..."

"Beggin yer pardon, miss! Not that king, miss! Not the one what done his last royal act on the throne, miss!"

Selphie tapped her wand on her teeth. Of course. _That _king had been dead for years. He must have meant Cid. Still, she couldn't help but be disappointed. Sighing loudly, she uncurled her lip and muttered, "Right. Long live the king and all that shit..."

"Right miss! Long live the king!"

"But I'm still in charge of this faire, damn it!"

"Right miss! But the king told us that we were to mind the crowd so there weren't any more fights. Ye olde riot control, I believe is what he called it, miss!"

"You mean he left the wine tent long enough to _tell _you? He's been drunk since this thing started. You honestly mean he staggered over here and..?"

"Beggin' yer pardon miss! The orders came by way of royal decree."

Selphie snatched the decree from the hands of the guard and scanned the words written on...holy cow. Yep, Cid had the medieval king thing down to an art. His royal decree was sloppily scrawled on the back of a label from a bottle of wine. Selphie tried to decipher the sprawling words of their drunken king, turning the label to the side to compensate for what must have been a very slack hand holding a very wobbly pen.

_By order of His Illustrious Majesty, Cid I, a tax shall be issued to the merchants on all sales of mead, beer, liquor, and wine. If the merchants are unable to make their tribute, His Majesty has graciously decided that they shall be forgiven, provided they bring all wares to His Majesty for sampling before being sold to the commoners. His Majesty shall be merciful to these faithful merchants, as long as they don't charge me for another bottle of wine. I told that cheap bastard that I was the king, damn it, and he needed to give it to me free anyway, but he ..._

Selphie noticed that the label was crumpled a bit and the handwriting smudged, almost as if Cid had tried to grip the paper as someone tore it out of his hands. The remainder of the decree was much neater, written in a flowing feminine script.

_To ensure the safety of his kingdom and his loyal subjects, His Majesty hath decreed that the houses of Leonhart shall view their lord from the eastern side of the arena, while the houses of Almasy shall view their lord from the west. His Majesty shall strike down with a furious anger any that dares to disturb the peace of his kingdom with petty quarrels..._

Selphie rolled her eyes. Why couldn't the queen mind her own business? Sure, Edea wanted to keep the peace and make sure that nobody was hurt in another fight, but that wasn't going to make any money. When people fought, they got hot and sweaty, which made them thirsty, which made them buy more booze. It was simple economics! How did she expect them to be able to renovate the library at Garden if they didn't make any money at the faire? Stupid pacifists and their stupid peaceful hippie habits...

"It's the king's will, miss! I wanted to knock a few heads meself, but I have to do as I'm told, miss!"

She sighed and handed the decree back to the guard. So much for getting those last few gil on the faire's final day. Even Seifer's fans now seemed to realize that they were simply too few in number to challenge the might of the Black Knight and his followers. With so many of Irvie's fans supporting Squall, it seemed that the only way there would be a brawl would be if Seifer won the joust. Judging from his previous performance and well aware that a very, very, very drunk Toothless Pete was the one to shoe Seifer's horse again, that just wasn't going to happen.

Hmm...unless...

"Carry on, good sir! I have many fairy duties to see to, sprinkling dew on mushrooms and whatnot, so I'll leave you to it!"

Speeding off in the direction of the forge, Selphie left the guard to try to puzzle out how he was going to seat the rest of Leonhart's fans.

Somewhere to his left, he heard the indignant bellows of a handful of Almasy supporters when they discovered that they were being forced to sit in designated areas apart from the rest of the crowd. The Leonhart faithful were quick to start jeering the fans in white, flipping their middle fingers to the sky and shouting the praises of their hero. A scuffle broke out and the guards had to drag some of the unwilling spectators to their assigned seats.

Hoo boy. It was going to be a long afternoon.

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Fujin sat on a barrel and admired the way Raijin's big hands moved over the expansive withers of Seifer's white horse. For all his size and clumsiness, he had a peculiar sort of grace around simpler creatures that she almost envied. She smiled as Raijin soothingly clicked his tongue and carefully combed out snarls from the shining mane. Such gentle hands....

She really was very fond of him, even though he needed a bit of training in the bedroom.

Moving from one white flank to the next, Raijin tried to brush as quickly as possible so he could do a final equipment check before lunch. Fujin wanted to help him, since it would have been easier and much faster to prepare for the joust if two people could have brushed the massive horse, but there was no way in hell that she was getting close to that monster again. The damned ugly animal _hated _her, so she was happy to let Raijin tend to the beast.

The horse shook his head and snickered, gloating over the fact that Fujin wouldn't approach him.

Fujin narrowed her eye. She still owed the fucker for the horseshoe shaped bruise on her ass. Once the joust was over, she planned on selling the bastard to a dog food factory for a hefty profit.

Raijin stopped in mid-stroke when he heard heavy footsteps enter the stables. "Hey Boss! Where ya been? We've looked all night for ya! Now it's the big morning and..."

Seifer looked up from his study of the hay-strewn stable floor and noticed his posse for the first time. "Hmm? Morning? Already?"

"Uh, yeah boss, er...sir! Newly broke, ya know! The cock just crowed and...umm...yeah, it's morning!" Leaning over to Fujin, Raijin whispered, "That _is_ what I'm supposed to say, right?"

"SUFFICIENT."

Both looked at their boss with some concern. "Hey sir? Did ya not find your lady?"

Seifer chuckled. "Aye, mine own loyal page, I found her and I am all the more sorrowful for it!"

Raijin raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I met her real early this morning and she seemed more pissed than sorrowful, ya know. Does this have somethin' to do with her takin' that ribbon back or...OW! What'd I do, Fu?"

"TONGUE."

"What?"

"BITE IT."

"Oh." It seemed that Raijin might do just that until Fujin kicked his shin. "Oh, you mean be quiet. Gotcha."

Exasperated, Fujin turned to Seifer and crossed her arms. He had damn well better have one hell of a good reason for staying out all night and worrying her. "WELL?"

Trying to avoid Fujin's questions when she was in an inquisitive mood did almost as much good as dragging Zell out of the Balamb cafeteria on all-you-can-eat hot dog nights. Both tended to scream loudly, dig in their heels, and grab sensitive, squishy bits with their teeth.

Sighing rather dramatically, Seifer raised one hand and entered full-on knight-with-a-broken-heart mode. "Alas, this humble knight shall sing no more of battles won or hardships overcome, for my lady cares naught for great deeds or daring heroics. She hath been mightily deceived by jeering shadows and even now is weeping upon..."

Fujin slapped Seifer in the back of the head. "TRANSLATION."

"Ow, damn it!" Seifer rubbed his head and glared at his squire. Just because Fu didn't appreciate the intricacies of the spoken word didn't mean that she had to go smacking the people that _did _enjoy a good speech. "Trepe. That fucking stuck up bitch. I swear she's a witch. I've tried to hate her, but it just isn't working."

"AND?" Fujin knew all of this. He had been a pathetic poetic lump ever since he first spied Quistis in the stands.

"Anyway, she came by the tent last night and thought she saw us fucking on my cot. Now she won't even let me near her."

Fujin's jaw dropped. "ME?"

"Aye, madame."

"YOU?"

"I speak the truth, dear companion. 'Twere otherwise, I would not be here lamenting the fate of ..."

Having heard enough, Fujin spun on her heel and quickly exited the stables, leaving Seifer to wax poetic about his lady and her misplaced fury to his faithful groomsman.

Damn it all to the depths of the abyss. She had been accused of a lot of things in her time, but screwing the boss? Was Trepe that damn stupid?

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"Well, that oughtta do it."

Irvine looked over his work and nodded in satisfaction. It had taken him the better part of three hours to polish Squall's boots to a mirror shine and he was enjoying the result. Grinning, he glanced to his left and saw Squall practicing with his sword. "You're gonna look great on that field today, Squall. I've got these boots so damn shiny that I can see myself in 'em. And let me tell you, it sure is a sight. I'm looking mighty fine, if I do say so myself, so don't be too offended if I take some of the eyes off you this afternoon."

Parrying invisible thrusts and dodging imaginary blows, Squall ignored his new page and his prideful boasts. With only a few hours left until the final competition, he had to fit in as much practice as possible. Seifer would no doubt be doing the same, so Squall fought through his hangover and attacked his practice dummy once more. Then again.

Then again.

Then he staggered a bit and prayed that the mead-induced nausea would pass before the hour came to wage war against his hated rival, and then he attacked again.

Rinoa sat on her skirts and clapped whenever Squall's dancing blade flirted with the chipped and scarred bark of the unfortunate tree. He was just _so handsome _in his inky armor, so dashing and magnificent that she didn't want to leave his side, even though he ignored her through his morning practice session...that happened to be dragging into the early afternoon. "You look great honey! That meanie white knight won't stand a chance against you!"

Squall's eyes narrowed as he considered what steps Seifer might be taking to prepare for the upcoming battle. At Irvine's insistence that the horse needed at least a few hours of rest, he had given up his mock jousts and returned to his swordplay. Would Seifer be doing the same? Or would he be plotting a way to cheat? It seemed like the sort of thing that he would do...

Step, thrust, parry, step, thrust, parry...

Rinoa smoothed her hair and waited patiently for Squall to notice her. A part of her was a little offended that he was taking the tournament so seriously, but it was all for her. Rinoa _liked_ being the center of attention. "Hey honey? Once the faire is over and we're back at Garden, I was thinking that we could go out and try that new sushi place that opened up on the corner of Fifth and Ivy. Or maybe we could..."

Squall flicked his hair out of his eyes and attacked the poor mutilated tree once more, shaving off a substantial six inches of bark from the trunk.

Rinoa's beautiful brown eyes darkened. Her knight was ignoring her again because he was too wrapped up in his damned faire. "Squall..._Squall Leonhart! _Answer me this very instant!"

Blowing a huge breath through his nostrils, Squall finally turned to his lady and asked, "What? I'm trying to practice so I can beat Seifer this afternoon. I'm sure that he's doing the same and I need to be ready for anything he might throw at me. Seifer is..."

Irvine calmly dropped the boots and picked up his green hat once Rinoa's face turned that singular shade of affronted crimson. True, he liked fireworks, but he also liked living a bit too much to hang around and witness the volcano blowing her top. It was high time he found Selphie anyway. He needed to relax a bit before the competition. Squall and Rinoa were some of his closest friends, but they were so damned high-strung sometimes.

As he crept away to relative safety, he heard the first sparks from the explosion as Princess Heartilly spilled her anger onto her knight. "If I hear you say 'Seifer' one more flippin' time, I'm going to take that lance of yours and shove it so far up your..."

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"What do you mean, you're not going to sit with me?"

Xu shrugged. "I told you. I have no desire to watch a couple of idiots wave their lances around and wait for the cheers."

"But, if you don't sit with me, then I'll have to sit with Selphie again!"

Xu held up her gloved hand and began ticking items off on her fingers. "The rack needs to be cleaned and the hinges on the pillory could use some oil. I need to sharpen the spikes in the Iron Maiden, then I have to mop the floor, wash the windows, plus I thought I might try adding some varnish to the wood on the scaffold."

The thought of her precious oaken scaffold shining in the noonday sunlight nearly brought a tear to Xu's hooded eye. Did the executioners of olden days feel the same pride that she felt when they maintained their equipment? Did they feel the same joy when they could hear nothing but screams and pleas thanks to squeak-free machinery?

"Varnish? Are you kidding me?"

Part of her was disappointed in the blonde at her campfire. Xu truly felt that since Quistis was so fond of her whip that she would be eager to hang out with her best friend in the torture chamber. They could make it a girls' night and share some drinks and popcorn as they maimed some infidels. Good times. Xu figured that torture and cruelty would be right up Q's alley, but her indifference to the finer points of mutilation and execution were mind-boggling. It was almost as if she didn't even _appreciate _the miracles lemon-scented wax could perform on a weather-beaten hangman's platform.

"You'd be amazed at how much difference a good sealant makes when you're trying to hang someone in the rain, Q. Have you ever tried to string someone up by his gullet when you're worried about how the humidity is going to affect the life of your scaffold? Let me tell you, it's hard to enjoy torture when you keep checking the boards under your feet for cracks and signs of wear."

Quistis groaned. She could tell Xu a thing or two about torture...

"But Selphie will try to make me cheer for Seifer and I don't want to deal with that this afternoon."

"Then don't go."

"What?"

Xu threw her axe on her shoulder and fixed Quistis with a concerned look, which was ignored due to the fact that her eyes couldn't be seen under her hood. "Q, if you don't want to go to the joust, then sit here and wait for the faire to end. Or you could go to one of the smaller stages and catch one of the musicians or the jugglers."

"But I..."

Sighing, Xu squeezed Quistis on the shoulder and grabbed her lunch of leftover turkey. "Look Q. If you think Seifer is a lying twat that will screw anything that moves, then you'll sit here and wait for me until we can pack up and get back to Garden. Since you're so bent on going to the joust and seeing him, I can't help but think that you still believe that he might be the knight you want him to be."

Quistis pouted her lips and leaned closer to the fire. Something about that scene at Seifer's camp had bothered her all night. "He's still a complete asshole, Xu."

"Heh, yeah, he's an asshole, but he seemed awfully worried about you yesterday. Since he takes playing knight so seriously, I just have trouble wrapping my mind around him porking his squire. Just seems fucked up."

_Yes Xu, but you didn't see them bumping and grinding while they..._

_Come to think of it, I didn't actually see them doing anything of the sort. It almost looked like Fujin was trying to make him drink cough syrup or something like that._

_Yes dear, but why on earth would she be on top of the lad? Hmm? Got an explanation for that one?_

Xu lifted her hood to better see Quistis' troubled face. "Q? You alright? You look kind of...distracted."

"Hmm? Oh, we're fine...I mean, I'm fine. I was just thinking..."

Unconvinced, but afraid to be late for her shift at the dungeon, Xu checked on Quistis once more, then headed to work. Oh, so much to do, so much to do...

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Note: I swear this is part of the last chapter, but I just don't like how I've written the joust. I'm happy with the resolution, but the final Seifer vs. Squall bit lacks something. Ah well. I'll post what I have so far...

I'm determined to finish this damn fic this week.

And yes, Selphie strikes me as an Elvis Presley fan. I can't explain it, but it's a vibe I've had since I first started playing this game. Can't you just see her strutting around in sequins and bell bottoms? I can! Makes perfect sense in my noggin.


	12. Chapter 12

After avoiding a costumed Trepie assault, Quistis and Selphie managed to make their way to their seats. Selphie, still fuming over the fan division, tried to remain in her seat like a well behaved fairy, but soon found that she just didn't have the patience to wait another twenty minutes or so for the joust to begin. She was furious about the lack of conflict, so she decided to stir things up a bit.

"Psst. Lady Q! I'm going to start some shit with some of Lord Almasy's fans...uh...I mean, go and grab some drinks. Yeah, drinks. I'll be back before you can yell Huzzah."

Quistis paid her no mind. She was far too busy searching the field below for a particular knight. There was Zell, impatiently pacing the length of the field, obviously ready to blow his horn so he could burn his jingly cap and pink tights. On the southern end of the field, Irvine was trying to help Squall onto the back of his enormous black charger, which looked rather difficult, considering that the heavy armor had to double the weight of the Black Knight. She knew that she shouldn't care, but she wanted to see what Seifer was doing to prepare for the joust. Finally spying him at the far end of the arena, she watched Raijin duck a flying apple as he did his last equipment check. Seifer sat atop his warhorse, ignoring the jeers and catcalls from hundreds of Leonhart fans.

_Well darling, at least the imp got better seats than last time. I daresay we'll be able to taste the blood and sweat when they try to kill each other. _

_I don't care about that at all. I just need to see who wins the tournament so I know which of us wins that damned bet. I don't know why Selphie insisted on sitting so close to the field when we could see just fine from the stands._

_Oh hush. These seats are nice. You should really tell her thanks. Where did she say she was going, anyway? _

_I'm not sure. I think she mentioned drinks and some food, but I..._

Quistis and her inner self were interrupted by a gruff voice and a quick tap to the shoulder.

"SIT?"

Looking up, she met the intense red gaze of one silver-haired page. "Oh God, did Seifer send you?"

"NO."

"Was it Raijin?"

"NO."

Quistis rolled her eyes. "Fine. Have a seat, but Selphie will be back in a moment, so you'll have to leave when she gets back with our drinks."

"UNDERSTAND."

Fujin sat next to Quistis and rested her chin in her hands. Perhaps it was the single eye that allowed her to see so much, or maybe it was because she chose to limit her words so that she could better hear others, but whatever the reason, she was able to perceive far more than anyone suspected. And boy, was she ever doin' some perceivin'...

"ANGRY?" Well, the fact that Quistis was angry was obvious to anyone with two...er, one eye, but Fujin thought she'd be polite.

Quistis glared at her, but said nothing. Inner Quistis was searching through her mental bags for a baseball bat and a roll of duct tape, but she remained silent as well. After all, if she meant to knock Fujin unconscious and throw her off a bridge, then she needed to be stealthy, right?

Fujin watched Quistis tighten the ribbon around her hair and smooth a few wrinkles from her skirt. When Raijin told her that he met the instructor and her 'freakin' _creepy_ friend' for coffee that morning, she had honestly been surprised to hear him mention that Trepe had taken her favor back from her knight. But when a troubled Seifer finally appeared and told them of his conversation with the fortune teller, she knew that there had been a bit of a mix-up. Did Trepe really believe that she would do _that _with Seifer?

Amused by the whole silly situation, Fujin grinned into her palm. Could Trepe not see that the knight was a bigger fool than Zell whenever she was around? Chuckling, she raised her single eye to Quistis and pointed to her eye patch, then at the instructor. "BLIND."

"I beg your pardon? Are you calling me blind?"

"OR STUPID." It was funny that Fujin's clipped words all sounded the same, yet every single one sounded different as well. This particular bark managed to sound accusatory even as it sounded a bit sad.

_Did she just call you stupid, dear? I wouldn't stand for it, myself. _

_Me?!?! You're included in that as well!_

_I hardly think so. I happen to be a genius. My mental faculties are far beyond that of...hmm... _

Quistis felt her id pause as she considered that she was arguing against herself while still arguing with the same woman that screwed the man that made her appear in the first place. Wait. What...?

_Well, at any rate, we're not stupid, darling. A bit mad, perhaps, but far from stupid. _

"Just who the hell are you calling stupid, Fujin?"

The page shrugged and fixed Quistis with a challenging stare. Fujin had years of practice dealing with Seifer's temper, so a bitch fit from Quistis wasn't about to scare her in the least. "YOU."

"_What? _Who do you think you are? I've not done a damned thing to you, but you come up here and insult me in addition to making me feel like a fool last night. Just get the fuck away from me, Fujin. Your _knight_ needs his page or squire or whatever you are."

Sighing, Fujin pointed to the field below. Raijin was involved in an animated argument with Seifer, no doubt trying to convince his boss that they needed to beat the hell out of the tomato-tossing Leonhart fans, while Seifer was casually waving off every one of Raijin's entreaties. Though he appeared calm, his stiff posture told her everything she needed to know; he was _really _pissed off, but he wasn't going to directly retaliate. Seifer had that _look, _the look that promised bloodshed, evisceration and lots of twitchy, detached limbs for any that dare oppose him_. _Smiling, Fujin turned to Quistis and decided to actually _speak_ to her instead of, well...SPEAKING to her.

"Don't be an idiot, Trepe. I know you're smarter than you're acting right now. He told us that you believe we were...ugh, _engaged_ in certain activities last night, but you're wrong. If he was interested in me, do you really think that he would be down there getting pelted with bottles and produce?"

_Ye gods! The cyclops speaks! Careful, darling! I don't think she's a cannibal, but I wouldn't get too close, either. I don't trust a cyclops. _

_Don't be foolish. And that's rather mean-spirited, don't you think? I'm mad at her as well, but that's a bit much. _

_If you say so, darling. Just be ready to hitch up your skirt and run like the dogs of hell are after you if she gets too close. _

_God, drop it. Fujin is missing an eye. That hardly makes her a cyclops. _

_Alright then, but when she's picking her teeth with one of your ribs, you'll wish you had listened to me. _

_Oh, shut up. I'm trying to hear what she has to say so she'll go back to her precious white knight and leave me alone._

_Hmm, yes, about that knight...she does make a good point, doesn't she? Look at him._

Quistis glanced down and saw Seifer being pummeled with fruit and vegetables. The black knight's fans were certainly enjoying the chance to whale away on the opposition before the joust began. She would have laughed, but it almost hurt her feelings to see her champion covered in enough food to feed a starving nation for at least a day or two.

_I see him. Pompous, arrogant..._

_Yes, but that's not what I want you to see. I believe that was a cantaloupe that just hit his head. Maybe a honeydew. I don't know for sure; melons aren't my forte. YOU, on the other hand...._

_So help me, if you make a joke about my melons right now, I swear I'll kill you._

_Right. Anyway, if this was any other time, I think he'd be climbing into the stands to lop off some heads, but he seems to be taking it rather well. Look! Now he got a bottle on the helmet and he didn't even flinch! _

_I'm sure he can't feel a thing through that heavy armor. Everything just bounces right off._

_Well, yes, but I'm sure his pride is stinging a fair bit. Poor lad. He doesn't even have to joust anymore, since his lady frowns on him so, yet he's still waiting for his chance to prove himself. Poor, poor lad..._

Fujin noticed that Quistis kept glancing down to Seifer, even though she obviously wanted to let it be known that she wasn't _really _looking, thank you very much. She snorted. Stupid prideful creatures. Seifer and Quistis were fucking made for each other. "He wants to win this tournament for you."

"No, he just wants to win the bet."

"The bet? Please. If all he wanted was to see you in that costume, then you've already lost that damn bet."

_The bitch! I'll kill her! _

_No, I hate to admit it, but she's right. I'm fairly certain that I lost once we had that little make-out session. _

_Oh yeah...heh. Well, if that's losing, then we need to do it more often. It was fun, wasn't it? I certainly had a merry olde time. But we still can't let him think that he's won so easily, now can we? _

"Umm, what are you doing?" Judging from the vacant eyes and blank expression on the instructor's face, it looked like she had been knocked on the head by an errant bit of heavy produce.

Suddenly aware that she was paying too much attention to her mental conversation, Quistis shook her head and replied, "Yes, Fujin. That's all he cares about. I've pissed him off, now he wants to win so he can gloat when ..."

Maybe it was the wind, but Fujin could have sworn that Quistis' voice had an echo. Weird.

"Do you _really_ believe that he would do that?" She would have laughed, were it not for the crestfallen expression on the instructor's face. "Honestly. Mr. Knight in Shining Armor? You and I know this is just some bullshit faire, but he takes it to heart. He wants it to be real because this is the closest he'll ever get to being a knight for his lady, if you'd only let him."

"Don't call me that, Fujin. I'm no longer his lady."

"Bullshit, Trepe. You know better than that. He may be an arrogant jerk, but he's a _loyal _arrogant jerk."

"I thought so too, but after I saw..."

"If it happened to be anyone else, I'd say, 'Yeah, what you saw is exactly what you think', but we're talking about _Seifer. _Doing something like that would fuck with his vision of knighthood. What you saw was me trying to help that stubborn bastard after he crashed into a thicket of briars. His belly was so full of thorns that..." Fujin growled and ran her fingers through her hair. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. I have no way to prove anything, so you don't have to believe me, but if Seifer says something to be true, then you can trust him."

Quistis wanted so badly to believe Fujin, but she knew what she saw. Didn't she? Come to think of it, Raijin's earlier behavior and now Fujin's declaration of loyalty were making her wonder just what she really did see in that tent. The hissed words exchanged between Seifer and Fujin _did _remind her of trying to put bandages on his knees when they were children.

The next words Fujin spoke mirrored her thoughts so closely that Quistis jumped. Just how much could she see with that single eye of hers? "You know, you may have grown up with him, but he's _my _brother. Take it however you want, but that's simply how it is."

And with that, Fujin turned and left. She was tired of talking to someone that didn't want to listen. Besides, she knew that there were two sins being committed on the field below. One, the Leonhart fans were insulting Seifer; and two, they were wasting perfectly good food. She had some serious ass to kick.

A bit bewildered and beginning to doubt her earlier assumptions, Quistis watched Fujin make her way from the stands to Seifer's side. He must have said something to her, but she just shook her head and ignored him. Raijin bent down and listened to something Fujin said, then stood and scanned the stands, no doubt searching for a flash of red fabric.

_Oh dear, you believe her, don't you?_

_I have no idea. I'm so confused right now. _

_Oh, you and me both, sister. But look at it this way, once the fairy gets back with our drinks, we'll be so damned drunk that it won't matter. The joust will be over, one of us will be wearing this costume for the last time and then we can go back to our nice, tame, boring, celibate life. You know, sex-free nights grading papers and staring at the walls. It'll be you, me and whatever we can afford from one of Xu's catalogs. I hope you're prepared to spend your life savings in batteries, love. _

_God, don't remind me._

_Hey sweetheart, I'm not exactly looking forward to it either. Those damn things are expensive....wait. Do you hear that?_

_Hear what?_

_Shh..._

Quistis cocked her head and tried to ignore the screaming crowd. Just behind her, she thought she could hear wheezing and periodic thumps. Turning around, she saw that crazy old bitch from the woods staggering a few steps towards her, then dropping her bag to the bleachers and resting her hands on her knees. Whatever she was dragging looked heavy.

"Umm, ma'am? Do you need some help?"

"Come grab this bag before I drop it and it rolls down the stands!"

Between the two of them, they managed to drag the cumbersome bag back to her seat. Panting, the old woman took the seat recently vacated by Fujin and wiped her forehead on her sleeve. "Hell! I oughtta slap the blonde right off of ya! That damn thing is heavy!"

"What?" Quistis watched her untie the bag to reveal a scratched, cracked, and altogether shabby looking crystal ball. "What have I done to make you want to slap me?"

"Shh...don't fret about that now, just stare into the crystal ball..." Purple eyes rolling back into her head, the fortune teller performed a complicated series of hand motions over the fissured surface of the orb, then released a shaky breath. "Oh, spirits of time and space, hear this, the most humble cry of your servant! Pull forth from the shadows of ...shadows of...bloody hell."

The crystal ball flickered, then hummed, then went dark. The fortune teller kicked it and it flared back to glowing, although silent life. She grinned sheepishly at Quistis. "I dropped it some years back, so it doesn't work quite as well as it used to. The volume doesn't work anymore, but you won't need it."

Quistis, being a pragmatic sort that took very little notice of the arcane, raised an eyebrow. "Volume? I wasn't aware that the tools of the spiritually inclined had volume settings."

The old woman chuckled. "Oh yes. This thing used to have one hell of a subwoofer. Believe you me, when I rolled into the witches covens, they all knew it was my wagon that had the killer sound system. But now it just shows the past, present and future. Pity that my warranty ran out. Divination by crystal just isn't the same unless you can thump along with your visions."

"So, why did you drag that thing all the way up here?"

"Just watch."

Curious, Quistis watched the swirling mists inside the ball twist and spin, finally parting enough to show Fujin astride Seifer. Shocked that the old woman would be so cruel, Quistis snarled, "Are you psycho or just that unkind? Do you really think that I wanted to see...wait. Why are their clothes still on? And why does Fujin have a pair of pliers? And why the hell is he bleeding?"

_Oh dear. Turns out everyone was telling you the truth, love. You know what this means, right?_

_I can finally screw him!_

_Well, umm yes, I suppose that's true, but I was going to say that Fujin was right about his knightly ambitions. _

_Oh. That too._

The old woman shrugged. "Don't know. These faires make people do funny things. Some folks dress like idiots and others drink themselves stupid. Then there are the folks, like your knight down there, that..."

Quistis smiled and hugged her before she could finish. "Do you realize what this means? He doesn't even have to do this joust anymore! I can go down there and we can finally..."

"Don't you dare!" Lightning flashed and Quistis felt her tongue freeze to the roof of her mouth. "You'll do no such thing. Do you think your knight wants you to go throwin' yourself at him like some two gil strumpet?"

_Ten gil, actually. _

_Shut up._

Blushing, Quistis tucked her hair behind her ears. "But, how am I supposed to let him know that I believe him now?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. I'm sure he'll figure it out. He makes a pretty good knight, you know."

Task completed, the old woman tied her crystal ball up in her bag and hoisted it over her shoulder. Climbing back up the bleachers, she smiled to herself. She had a lot of work left to do before she headed back to her wagon.

"Wait! One more thing!"

Turning, she saw one very happy lady in a very bad costume waving at her. "What is it, lass?"

"Well, I just wondered...why did you bother showing that to me?"

Chuckling, the fortune teller adjusted her bag and winked. Quistis felt a stirring of something very familiar when gold flashed over the old woman's purple irises. "Let's just say that he needs the right sort of lady so he could have another shot at being a knight. I owe it to him."

Quistis opened her mouth to reply, but she was gone. Instead, Selphie was bounding down the stairs to her seat with a pair of peculiar sparkling green cocktails in her hands. "Hey Lady Q! Look what I found! The guy mixed these special for us since I was wearing the fairy costume! He called it _Queen Mab's Revenge! _Isn't it pretty?!?! All green and twinkly and fizzy!"

"Did you not see...? Oh, never mind." Quistis carefully sniffed the offered beverage before taking a cautious sip. She wasn't entirely certain that she wanted to drink anything that glowed brighter than the morning sun....well, if the morning sun happened to be green and kind of bubbly. "What the hell is in this drink, Selphie? It tastes like...well, it tastes like _something._"

"Oh, quit worrying so much and drink the damn thing. You might have a little bit of fun if you'd stop being such a bitch, Quisty."

"I'm not..."

_Ahem! It's not her fault that you're mad at the entire world. You HAVE been a complete bitch since you arrived._

_Oh fine. Let's everyone gang up on me at once, eh? Can't even count on myself, it seems._

Sighing, Quistis took a long pull from her mystery drink and looked across the tilt to Rinoa, who was acting like a perfect princess from a fairy tale. The crowd cheered and she waved, occasionally throwing cute little looks towards her knight as he ran through a series of practice moves. Ugh. They were just too damned perfect sometimes. "You know, you might be right, Selphie. I suppose I should try to enjoy myself since it is the final day."

Seeing Selphie's pleased expression was almost worth all of the hassles Quistis had faced since she decided to visit the faire. "Now you're talkin'! Come on, Lady Trepe! Your mighty warrior is preparing to do battle with his hated adversary and he needs the support of his lady fair! I wanna hear one hell of a huzzah from you!"

"Oh Selphie, can't I just clap my hands? I promise to clap loudly."

"What? NO! For shame, lady! For shame! Come, open thine throat and pour forth with _such _a beastly yell. Strike fear into the hearts of thine enemies with the hellish fury of thine..."

"You want me to do what now?"

Selphie rolled her eyes. "Come on now. You don't want Squall and Rinoa to win this thing, do you? I mean, they're my friends and all, but it gets kind of boring to see them win _everything. _Your knight might try a little harder if he knows that you're cheering for him. I've got a lot riding on this match, you know."

Quistis sipped her drink as she watched Zell approach the center of the field and raise his horn. The clear notes cut through the frantic buzzing noise of the crowd and she sighed, "You're not the only one, Selphie."

----------------------------------------------------

Taking an enormous breath after the lengthy fanfare, Zell lowered his belled cap and addressed the crowd. "GOOD MORROW LORDS AND LADIES! WELCOME TO THE FINAL EVENT, WHERE THE NOBLE BLACK KNIGHT SHALL LAY A HELL OF A SMITIN' ON THE COWARDLY WHITE KNIGHT AND REND HIS FLESH FROM HIS..."

"Oi! Get on with it!"

"Enough with yer bleedin' morrows!"

"Yeah! We want to see some blood!"

"And a dead white knight!"

Zell ground his teeth together. He had just about had enough of the fucking crowd and their rude behavior. Grumbling to himself, he kicked the clay under his feet and swore that he wasn't going to be the fool next year. Hell no.

----------------------------------------------------

"EEEE!!!! LOOK! They're starting! Huzzah motherfuckers! Huzzah!" Selphie squealed when she saw Zell announce the beginning of the final event, but she squealed even louder when she saw the White Knight approaching his lady, making all attendees cover their ears or risk going deaf.

"Ooh! Here he comes! It's just like a movie. Are you gonna play along and be a good little lady, or am I gonna have to cast a fairy spell on ya? I can _totally _do it you know. See, I was sittin' on a rock listenin' to this mermaid chick sing one night, and it was really awesome, but then this naked kid with a bow comes flying by and..."

Quistis looked at the collection of plastic cups scattered around the fairy's feet. One, two, six, nine...yep. Nine cups of _Queen Mab's Revenge_. The fairy was drunk off her bloody rocker. "Selphie? Are you sure you saw that? I believe the extraordinarily high ethanol content of your cocktails is starting to alter your perception of..."

"NO! I was there! So anyway, this kid shoots an arrow and he missed, right? So, it hits this flower and..."

"Wait. I really think that this was in a play, Selphie. Wasn't this the one with the fellow that had his head turned into that of a jackass while he..."

"As I was saying, _Lady Impatience_, this kid loosed his love-shaft..."

"Oh bloody hell..."

"No, Silly! Not _that _love shaft. Is that all you ever think about? God, Quisty, you really are a pervert."

Quistis, hearing her id chatter along in agreement with Selphie, dropped her head into her hands and prayed for death. Death, having a twisted sense of humor himself, snickered from his seat in the stands, then ignored her pleas. He had the day off, so he planned on enjoying the show.

"Anyway, so, he loosed his love shaft and it hit this flower. So, this flower turns from white to purple, right? So, I'm thinking that there is some serious lovey-dovey mojo magic power in that flower and I bet I can make one _hell_ of a love potion from it."

"Selphie, you don't understand why I can't just..."

"Zip it, Lady Q. Keep pissing me off and I'll go pick yon flower, rub it in thine eyes, then you'll be so fucking in love with Seifer that you'll not be able to _walk _by the time he gets finished showing you how much he dotes on you and that..."

Seifer, now close enough to them to hear every intoxicated word, listened to this exchange in iron-clad amusement. The fairy was completely shit-faced, but Quistis still appeared to be sober. Pity. At least when she was tipsy, she was a little friendlier. Ah well.

Removing his helmet, he bowed low and greeted the drunken fairy and the furious lady. "Good day, Lady."

"Whoops! Never mind! I may not need that flower after all!" Selphie grabbed Quistis by the elbow and shoved her to the edge of the balcony. "Lookin' good today, Sir Almasy! I hope to see heads roll when you take your sword and..."

"Might I speak with the lady, dear wood sprite?"

"Oops! Of course!" Selphie decided to correct the knight later. After all, for those not initiated it was difficlut to tell the difference between fairies, sprites, brownies, and pixies. She just figured that he was so focused on Lady Q's jugs that he failed to notice that she was in fairy form, not sprite form. Selphie smiled. Poor silly, love-struck knight.

_Well, that can't be good. He's just calling you lady now instead of milady. I daresay he's not quite as enchanted with you as he was yesterday. It might have something to do with ringing his bells with your boot last night..._

_Shut it. For just ten minutes, will you shut your damned trap? I think I may have to commit supernatural homicide when I kill Selphie and I have no qualms about taking Seifer's lance and shoving it up your..._

_And? That sounds rather kinky, darling..._

_Don't start. You know exactly what I meant._

_Ooh! Fine, I'll be quiet, but he's waiting on an answer. _

"Good day, Sir."

_Good girl. Nice and civil. Keep talking to him._

"I trust that I find the lady in good health?"

_Oh bloody hell. He's asking about your health instead of talking about your knockers. _

"Aye. Umm..."

_Oh, you idiot. Talk about the weather, the joust, his lance, anything. Bend over a bit so we can catch his interest again..._

"Umm, 'tis a fine day for a joust."

"Aye, Lady. A fine day indeed."

Selphie elbowed Quistis and nodded her head towards Squall and Rinoa, who were engaged in an elaborate favor exchanging ceremony. Looping her ribbon over the end of his lance, Rinoa blew the Black Knight a kiss and waved him off to do battle, smiling when the crowd exploded in cheers. "Look. The crowd is going nuts over there, Lady Trepe. Give your man some motivation so I can have my brawl. I've got this last event to make some money and I need him to win."

Quistis ignored her pixie companion and waited for Seifer to speak again. The crowd could go and hang themselves by their tights and pantyhose for all she cared.

"I've come to discuss our wager, Lady."

"Oh?"

The harsh blast of Zell's trumpet intruded once more and the crowd hissed. They were losing patience with the white knight and his bloody procrastination. Seifer ignored them.

"Aye, Lady. I'll win this tournament, but I no longer have any desire to see you in _that _costume."

Quistis was crushed. "You...wait. What? Why are you doing this, Seifer? I thought you would be overjoyed to see me lose this bet. I thought you wanted to see me wearing..."

"No, 'twas a passing fancy."

"But..."

"I know the lady doth loathe her scarlet raiment, thus I shall seek no more to force the lady to wear such a bothersome garment."

"But..."

"Hush, Lady. Say no more, but if speak thou must, then pray for my soul, for I go into battle with thine sweet name on my lips, though it matters to thee not if I fall or triumph." Replacing his helmet, Seifer saluted his lady once more and gave his mighty horse an affectionate pat on the neck. "If the fates are kind, then we will meet again ere the day is done. If not, then I bid milady a fond adieu."

Quistis chewed her lip and argued with herself while she considered his words. She eventually won the argument, though it wasn't as if she didn't put up one hell of a fight. And truth be told, she wasn't really sure which _she _actually won. Leaning over the railing, she yelled, "Wait."

Urging the horse to the edge of the balcony, Seifer sidled as close as he dared. "Yes, milady?"

"Did you mean what you said about the costume? That even if you win, I won't have to wear it?"

"I did."

Quistis gestured for her knight to come closer so she could loop her ribbon around his lance. "And did you mean that you would still fight for me, even though I've not believed you?"

_Ooh! And the kick to the jewels, dear! Mustn't forget that!_

_Quiet! I'm trying to figure something out!_

Seifer smiled under his helmet. "I did."

Selphie nudged Quistis in the arm. "Now, you see how much of a gentleman he is? Aren't you going to wish him luck so he can start a bloody riot...er, win the tournament?"

"No, Selphie. I don't think I will wish him luck." Quistis smiled at her knight and received a short, understanding nod in return.

"What?!?! Why the hell not? He's waiting on you to give him a bit of...well, never fucking mind now! There he goes! Too late now! Thanks a lot! It'll be the black knight for sure and nobody will want to get in a fight. Shit."

As Seifer spurred his horse back to the field, the anxious crowd fell into a disorderly series of cheers and chants, deep boos and vicious taunts. Amidst the clamor, a short fairy in homemade wings raised her voice to the heavens and prayed for a downpour of blood and booze, while her companion simply sat down and waited for her knight to prove his worth.

-------------------------------------------------

Zell felt his lips going numb. Seifer was such a jackass, making him blow that damn trumpet for ten minutes while he tried to get back on Quistis' good side. Fucking jerk. Weren't the white knights supposed to be the good guys? Stupid Seifer. What the hell was taking him so long?

Looking up at Squall, Zell jerked his head to the box seats and grinned. "Looks like he's still trying to climb up Quisty's costume, eh Squall?"

"Enough, fool. The white knight approacheth. Ready thy horn once more, for the battle begins."

"Oh cripes, not you too!"

Squall ignored him and moved to his starting point at the end of the tilt. His lady waved and cheered, but the black knight only had eyes for his rival.

"Tch! Whatever." Bringing the horn to his lips once again, Zell waited for the knights to take their positions.

Seifer rode to the center of the arena and saluted his opponent, then aimed a kick at Zell's head. Waving at the crowd, he lowered his voice so that only Zell could hear him. "Well Chicken-Wuss, if you're not too tired from blowing on your boyfriend's skin-flute all night, then maybe you wouldn't mind blowing that trumpet of yours so we can start this thing."

Zell took a step towards Seifer with his trumpet, fully prepared to shove it down his throat, but the crowd erupted. Some looked as if they might jump from the stands and strangle him if he prolonged their promised fight.

"Fine. I hope you said a prayer, Almasy. You're gonna need it."

Seifer grinned and spun his horse to the northern end of the arena, making certain that the heavy hooves of the beast showered the fool with clay.

Moving out of the way, Zell spit dirt out of his mouth and signaled the beginning of combat. The crowd fell silent for the first time as they waited.

Squall lifted his lance.

Seifer lifted his own.

A deep breath and...

-----------------------------------------------

"Are you alright?"

A golden light pierced the clouds blocking Seifer's vision and he groaned in perfect dramatic agony. Satisfied that his pupils were dilating the way any healthy knight's should, Quistis dropped the penlight back in _ye olde first ayde kit _and gently lifted his head so she could check the small cut on his forehead_. _"Seifer? Did you hear me? Are you..."

It must have been a battle to the death, for the white knight knew that his soul had been sent to the good side of the afterlife if his lady held him in her arms. Still dizzy, but very pleased, he sighed, "Ah, speak again, bright angel, for thou art..."

Fujin snorted. She was relieved to hear him speak, even if it was that annoying faire-speech, but it wouldn't do at all to let him know about it. "FINE."

Raijin finally opened his eyes once he heard his boss stir. Terrified to see his corpse, the page had refused to crack his eyelids, so he simply let Fujin guide him to the fallen knight, where he fell on the ground and whimpered next to Seifer's prone form. Like any page worth his salt, he fully intended on following his boss to that great jousting arena in the sky. "Boss? Sir! You're awake! Great! I thought ya were a goner, ya know!"

"The fiend thinks that he can unhorse me with such a cheap blow. I'll send his soul to feast in hell!" Seifer threw off Quistis' hands and tried to raise his rather heavy armored body from the ground. The ground? What the fuck? He looked around, noticed that he was no longer on his horse, then realized that his iron-clad ass had been knocked unconscious.

Quistis laughed. He looked so damn _cute _when he was bewildered. She made a mental note to remind him of it later. It would humiliate him to know that the fierce white knight had his adorable moments. "Well, he _did _unhorse you."

Oh! It was true! Leonhart had won and the tournament was lost! "WHAT?!?!? Oh spite! Defeated whilst milady bore witness to my shame."

"Oh, stop with the drama. You knocked him off too, so they called a break while they consult the rulebook. You were both unconscious and there was nearly a riot when they talked about calling a draw. If one of you doesn't win this thing, then there might be a full-scale war in the stands."

"A draw? Never! Then it must be back to battle ere I can rest, for I have the honor of milady to defend against..."

"Seifer, really. There's no need for you to..."

"I must defeat the scoundrel and win the day to prove my loyalty to milady!"

Quistis shoved Seifer to the ground and motioned for his squires to hold him down. "Stay still! You've got a gash on your head..."

"Bah! 'Tis a flesh wound!"

"Oh, 'tis a flesh wound alright, but I need to fix it before you go back out there."

"Though my lifeblood even now gushes forth from mine own brow, I shall once more charge into the fray, for I am a warrior that knows no fear and..."

Quistis jumped on Seifer and held his arms down with her knees. "Try it and I'll snap your lance in half with my bare hands, Seifer. I'm in no mood for heroics."

"You'll do what now?"

"You heard me." Turning her head, Seifer followed her gaze to a spot just a few feet away, where Squall was being pulled to his feet by his beautiful lady. "Now, stay still so I can stop this bleeding. I want you to win this tournament and you won't be able to with blood in your eyes."

"Truly? Hath this knight been forgiven by his lady?"

"You idiot. There's nothing to forgive. If you're this much trouble with so-called 'flesh wounds', then I can understand why Fujin had to pin you down just to pull a thorn from your gut."

"PAIN IN THE ASS."

Raijin laughed. "Yeah, the boss is kind of stubborn when it comes to his health. We gotta watch out for him, ya know. He'd get himself killed if he didn't have us."

Seifer struggled a bit more, but it was mainly for the benefit of the audience still screaming for his death. After all, he had an image to maintain. Still, having Quistis on top of him in _that _costume while bending over to tend to his (admittedly) shallow laceration was worth getting knocked off of his horse into the dirt. "And what...ow... made the lady...ow... change her mind?"

Quistis considered telling him about the fortune teller and the crystal ball, but decided against it. "Well, I simply realized that my knight would never do such a thing to his lady. He has far too much..."

Seifer laughed and gave her a quick kiss, then threw her to the ground so he could mount his horse. "Come Raijin! Assist your lord to his steed! I have a battle to win!"

Squall, impatiently brushing off the helping hands of his lady-love, looked over and saw Seifer's seemingly miraculous recovery. Running to his own horse, he hurriedly motioned for Irvine to help him. "Quickly now! Fetch another lance!"

"But..."

"Fetch!"

Irvine threw his hat down and stomped on it. "I ain't a dog, Squall! You're taking this thing a bit too seriously, don't you think? Besides, we're outta lances! Ya'll hit each other so hard that every damn one has been splintered!"

Indeed they had been. After the first tilt, both warriors saw their wooden lances shattered by the force of their blows. Again and again they charged, shrieking insults and curses, oblivious to the hearty cheers of the crowd.

Somewhere around the seventh or eighth pass, right when their shield arms were beginning to throb from the barrage of lance against steel, both had seemed to forget that holding onto the horses was a good idea.

Seifer aimed a blow for Squall's chest and Squall aimed a blow for Seifer's head, both seeking to end the joust and crown themselves the victor of the tournament. So intent were they on their targets that they leaned a bit too much and subsequently found themselves flat on their backs. Well, after they were brought back to the conscious world, they found themselves flat on their backs.

"Damn it, what good is a squire if he doesn't even..." Frustrated, Squall ran to the southern end of the arena and grabbed his sword. Launching himself at Seifer (no easy feat, considering the weight of his armor), he wrapped his arms around his waist and jerked him to the ground.

Quistis glanced at Rinoa, who seemed very, very, very put-out with her knight, before grabbing her arm and quickly exiting the arena. "Come on. They're going to kill each other anyway, so we may as well have a seat and watch it from the stands."

Rinoa growled. "Seifer had better kill him, because if he doesn't, I certainly will"

Surprised, Quistis looked at Rinoa and tilted her head. "I thought you were proud of your knight, Rinoa."

"I was, but that was until he decided that nothing else mattered to him except for winning this damned joust." Rinoa smiled at Quistis. "He's nothing at all like _your_ knight. I must confess, I'm a bit jealous of the way he keeps yelling your name right before he spurs his horse."

_Ooh! Princess is jealous! Did you hear that love? _

_I know! It feels fantastic!_

_Yes, but you'd feel even better if you could convince your knight that he's going to be completely worn out if he keeps fighting like that. WE'RE supposed to be the ones to wear him down, remember?_

_Well, if you want to get in the middle of that fight, then be my guest. I'd much rather not lose a limb. _

Finally finding a safe spot to watch the rest of the battle, Quistis looked down to the brawling knights. Between curses and punches, screams and kicks, they finally realized that hand-to-hand combat was useless as long as they wore such heavy armor. Seifer pushed Squall away and ran to Raijin, yelling for his sword.

Steel chimed against steel when their blades met; the crowd cheered when they thought that they might finally get to see an arm or a leg get hacked off.

Squall smiled when he heard the explosion. "What's wrong, Almasy? Upset that the audience is ready to see your head on a platter?"

Seifer blocked Squall's strike right before the blade would have lopped off his leg. "I care not for the rabble."

"Oh really? You sure enjoyed playing the crowd the other day."

Both were exhausted, covered in dirt, bleeding and sore, yet they continued to attack; both gaining ground and falling back, neither partner able to lead the dance of steel and strength.

Gasping for breath, Seifer tried to use his longer reach to gain an advantage, but where he was taller and stronger, Squall was quicker. "That was...until...I decided...to fight for...my lady..."

Squall wasn't much better. His arms felt like the armor had somehow melted onto his skin and the iron was now part of his body. "I thought...it was...a bet..."

"Yeah...it was." Holy hell. Seifer thought his legs were going to fall off. It was hard to dodge the skinny little bastard's attacks.

"I thought you were...just out for...glory..."

Seifer laughed, though it hurt his ribs to do so. "Glory? Why fight for glory when you can fight for a beautiful lady? Can you imagine...how her eyes...will look when...she sees that..."

Lady? Shit. Rinoa. Ashamed of himself for allowing Seifer to suddenly become the noble one, Squall glanced to the stands, hoping to catch a glimpse of his lady. It wasn't much, but it was long enough for the flat of Seifer's blade to make contact with his head.

Stunned, Squall fell to his knees and shook his head to clear it of stars.

Ow.

Did they have freight trucks in medieval times? No...maybe it was a siege tower that rolled over him. Whatever it was, the black knight wasn't sure if he could stand.

"Come sir. On your feet. Your lady is watching."

Surprised when he saw Seifer extend a hand to help him up, Squall grinned. Unsteadily rising to his feet, he gave the white knight a short bow. As much as it pained him, Seifer happened to be the better knight that day. "No. It was a good hit, Sir Almasy. I yield."

"Yield?!?!"

Squall smiled again and pointed to the stands. "Aye sir. Would that we were in a real battle, that blow would have parted my head from my shoulders. Besides, I have a lady in the audience that needs a kind word from her knight."

After seeing this, Quistis looked at Rinoa, who seemed very happy to see her knight fall. "Umm, why are you smiling like that?"

"He needed to lose. He was taking this competition thing _way _too seriously."

"So, you don't mind that Seifer won?"

Rinoa giggled. "No, I don't mind at all, because I'll finally get my Squallie-Poo back." Looking around at the enraged fans surrounding them, she pushed Quistis towards the stairs. "Now get out of here. I think that you might have to get Seifer out of here in a hurry because it doesn't look like they'll stop at throwing tomatoes this time."

Except for the mad cheers of one very drunk fairy, the faire was silent.

Then someone decided to start throwing dwarves.

The dwarves, having had enough of this, raided the booth where customers could pay to throw an axe at a target and came out swinging. Beards standing on end, they jumped into the stands and began hacking away at the supports for the bleachers.

Realizing that they were just a few chops away from falling to the earth in a heap, the furious Leonhart fans stormed the arena, hellbent on dragging Almasy to the torture chamber and hearing him scream.

Mouth hanging open, Zell watched chaos descend upon the Balamb Faire.

Squall didn't just lose, did he?

That part of the stands didn't just collapse, did it?

Seifer didn't just gallop past on that ugly ass horse, did he?

He didn't just throw Quistis on the back of his horse, did he?

Bloody hell.

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Note: Yeah, I'm still not happy with the joust, but I posted it anyway. I'll fix it later, when my brain isn't fried from overtime. On to the end...tally ho!


	13. Chapter 13

Deep in the forest, far from the lights and sounds of the faire and the riot within, a knight struggled to keep a delicate lady from gnawing his fingers off and spitting them into the leaves below their feet. "Shh. Quiet, Lady. The hounds of hell yet nip at our heels and they foam at the chops for our blood."

Words muffled by Seifer's hand, Quistis muttered, "Why the hell did you drag me off in the woods, Seifer?"

"To evade our pursuers, of course. I fear that they meant harm to my lady fair and I..."

"They didn't mean harm to _me! _It's your blood they want!"

Seifer removed his hand from Quistis' mouth so she could look at him. "Aye, but they saw you grace my most unworthy head with thine own bless'd hand, so thine precious life is now forfeit."

"It's a bloody damned faire! You're taking this thing way too seriously, Seifer!"

"Aye me! 'Twas once a simple faire, but the fiendish horde hath been possessed by mad spirits. I had to ferry thee away to a place of safety and solitude, else the foul beasts lay their violent hands upon thee."

True, Squall's fans were very, very unhappy to see their hero lose to the despised white knight, but Quistis didn't see how she had much to do with it. Okay, so _maybe_ Seifer fought a bit harder when she favored him on the field and just _maybe_ Squall's fans happened to see that she was the cause of his newfound fervor, but really! How the hell was it her fault?

Spinning around, her eyes absorbed the long shadows under the massive trees and the rapidly diminishing light from the setting sun. Such arboreal giants didn't get that size just over a season or two. These monsters looked to easily be a few centuries old and tall enough to make space exploration seem rather superfluous and silly.

She knew that they had been riding for a while, but she didn't think that they made it _that _far into the wilderness. "Well, you've certainly found solitude. I doubt humankind has been this deep in the forest since _real _knights were alive. How far did that horse take us?"

Seifer followed the direction of Quistis' gaze and noticed that they were far deeper in the shelter of the trees than he planned. Of course, the crowd coming after them with bottles and swords didn't really give him much time to plan much of an escape route, so he didn't think he was _completely _at fault. At the time, riding off into the sunset with his lady on the back of his war-horse seemed very romantic. Now that they were stuck in the woods with no shelter and no way to make it safely back to camp, it didn't seem like the wisest decision he had ever made. "Hmm. Yes, 'twould appear that we are lost."

"Seifer! I'll kill you! We're lost in the middle of nowhere..."

"Aye."

Quistis punched Seifer in the shoulder and promptly brought her stinging knuckles to her mouth. Punching him was one thing, but punching him while he was still dressed in his full suit of armor was entirely different. Wincing, she sucked her hand and moaned, "There's not a soul around! We could be out here all night!"

Seifer looked around and thoughtfully tapped his finger against his chin. "Aye."

Still furious that they were lost and alone, Quistis continued to rave about their situation. Pacing and jiggling, she failed to notice that Seifer didn't seem nearly as worried about their condition. "There's no way that anyone can find us until morning! Nobody to..."

Seeing her in _that _costume with the hazy half-light of early evening illuminating her hair, an idea occurred to the knight that had nothing to do with navigation. Seifer took her hand and pulled her close to his armored chest, smiling when she looked at him in surprise. "...interrupt us...or...oh...right..."

_Oh dear...tell me, darling. Why the hell didn't we think of this a long time ago?_

_I have no idea, but I'm very glad he thought of it. _

_Oh well. Fuck it, love. We're lost and alone and there's enough fabric in this skirt to keep both of you warm until morning. I say it's time for a night under the stars, don't you? Or under him, rather. You know, whichever you like best. I'm flexible. _

_Yes, all that yoga is going to pay off, isn't it?_

_Well, I meant that I am willing to agree with you regardless of your opinion, but I must say that I'm impressed! You're turning into a regular lusty harlot, aren't you? I've taught you well!_

_Would you stop chattering so I can focus? I've never undressed a man in full plate armor before. There are all sorts of latches and belts...it's very confusing._

_Oh! Right! Well, I'll leave you to it! _

When he tore the laces from her corset, she smiled and hoped that he would just rip the damned thing from her shoulders. She _hated _that costume.

"True, milady. No pages or squires, no fools or fairies. None to interrupt us while you uphold your end of the wager..."

Grabbing a handful of scarlet cloth, Quistis pulled her costume together and frowned. Slapping his hands away, she asked, "Wager? I thought you said that I wouldn't have to wear this costume."

"I did."

"But I thought you canceled the bet when you..." Her eyes widened as she realized what the 'chivalrous' white knight meant when he spoke to her before the joust.

_Oh ho! He outsmarted us, love! I thought he canceled it too. I suppose that means that you still have to uphold your end of the wager, darling. Though, he is being rather gracious, offering you a chance to finally get out of that costume instead of making you parade around for his enjoyment. Clever lad. _

_Yes, very clever. Remind me to slap the hell out of him later._

_Certainly. But first..._

Quistis raised an eyebrow at Seifer's devilish grin. Yes, he had won the bet, but she didn't plan on letting him claim his prize so easily. "Should I be concerned that I'm now alone in the forest with a villain dressed in white that is even now tearing the fabric from my body? What's a delicate lady to do?"

Green eyes widened. Of course! There was the honor of the lady to protect and he was acting the part of the lustful rogue instead of the honorable white knight! Seifer cupped her cheeks with his hands and forced her to look at his face. "A villain? Dost milady fear her knight? Say the word and I'll take thee back to yonder faire where..."

_Darling? You better stop him right now. He's taking this knight thing so far that he's actually getting concerned over your bloody damned virtue! If you let him drag you back to that faire, so help me, I'll..._

"Don't you dare! I didn't really mean to call you a _villain, _but then again..." Quistis smiled even wider and wrapped her arms around his neck. Gently brushing her lips along his jaw line, she whispered in his ear, "...I hope you aren't going to be a complete gentleman, either."

"Really?"

"Mmm hmm. I must admit that I'm curious to see how I'll fare against the champion of the Balamb Faire when I meet him in battle." Taking the leather-wrapped hilt of his sword, she playfully pulled it out of his scabbard and held the blade up to reflect the last rays of the setting sun. Dusky red light flickered across Seifer's eyes as she turned the sword in her hands and admired the mirrored silver and jade. "Hmm. Tis a fine blade, mi'lord. Pity that it shall soon meet its match against a most formidable foe."

She winked. "I fear the steel will never be the same once it passes through the fires of my forge, good sir."

Seifer swallowed hard. Not entirely sure if he could come up with a comeback to _that_, he tried to steer the conversation back to more familiar territory, where he was the witty one and Quistis was floundering for a response. "Umm...Should I show mercy on the lady when I meet her in battle?"

"Oh, I'd be very disappointed in my knight if he chose _right now _to be chivalrous." Quistis laughed when Seifer took his sword and slammed it back in the sheath. "Yes, 'tis best that you yield now."

"Yield? Ha! I yield to no man..." Quistis opened her mouth to reply, but he silenced her with a well-deserved kiss. "...but I'm a sucker for a pretty lady in a dress. And pretty lady, that's one _hell _of a dress."

"Good then, because I'd have you on your back much faster than any other warrior you've faced anyway..."

"Is that so?" Considering that his lady already had him down in the leaves and was tugging at his armor, Seifer decided that the battle was lost before it began. Ah well. Such was the life of a knight. "Truly, this is a battle unlike any that this knight hath..."

"God, shut up already." Quistis finally figured out how his armor was attached and freed him from his metal prison. Now able to wrap her arms around her knight instead of a tin can, she pulled him close and murmured, "Be silent a moment and find another use for thine silver tongue..."

"What the hell did you just..."

"You heard me, good sir knight."

Seifer smiled. He was getting tired of speaking like that anyway. "As you wish, milady."

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Somewhere in the dark recesses of Quistis' mind (and parts much lower), a certain satisfied lady lit a celebratory cigarette and settled into a bathtub full of scented bubbles. Raising a glass of wine in one hand and the cigarette in the other, she congratulated herself as tendrils of smoke curled around her head.

_Huzzah, darling! Huzzah, indeed. We'll have to do this again next year. _

_---------------------------------------------------------------_

Note: Woo hoo! Holy shit! I've finished a multi-chapter fic!

Okay, I've used some more Shakespeare and Selphie had an Oberon moment with that love-flower bit. I always liked that speech between Oberon and Puck when they were planning a bit of mischief for Titania in _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, who should _really_ kick their fucking asses for slipping her the fairyland equivalent of a roofie, but that's a whole different rant for a whole different time. Poisoned love flowers indeed...

_Queen Mab's Revenge _is a drink I thought up when I was still bartending. It has a bit of fresh mint, apple schnapps, a splash of soda water or _Sprite, _and a _lot_ of white rum. Drink more than a couple and you really _will_ visit Fairyland for a few hours before taking a screeching detour into Hangover Hell. They were very popular with theatre majors.

Anyway...Woo hoo! That whole fic was fun, but it was also much longer than I thought it might be when I started. Fuck it. I don't care how long it was. I had a blast writing it and playing with Seifer as a knight and Quistis as a chick that really-doesn't-need-a-knight-but-might-want-one-anyway. (which the game _so_ should have explored a bit more, but I can go on and on about that...grr.)

Once more, a huge thank you and a round of drinks to those very kind people that reviewed this fic for me! I really, really appreciate it! Oh, you have no fucking idea how it makes me smile to know that people seem to like this fic!


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